


Red Jamie and the White Lady

by DiverseMediums, takemeawaytocamelot



Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, Psychic Abilities
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2018-10-22 21:02:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 63,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10705038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiverseMediums/pseuds/DiverseMediums, https://archiveofourown.org/users/takemeawaytocamelot/pseuds/takemeawaytocamelot
Summary: Claire Beauchamp is dragged by her best friend and flatmate, Geillis Duncan, to go visit a powerful psychic to prove once and for all that true love exists. Claire is a practical woman and finds the idea of true love pointless. Jamie Fraser is a powerful psychic who can glimpse the future. When he meets Claire, something changes. Like they were destined to find each other.





	1. Chapter 1

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp was a practical woman - belief in fairy tales, knights in shining armor, and love everlasting just didn’t have a place in her life. Geillis Duncan, her best friend and roommate, was the complete opposite. Claire often wondered to herself how they’d become friends, with so little in common. 

“I don’t believe you,” Geillis said one night, tossing her thick, blonde hair over one shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter if you believe me. That has no bearing on the truth.”

Geillis’ green eyes rolled hard and she finished her glass of whiskey.

“How can you not believe in true love?”

“Because it doesn’t exist! Love is just a chemical reaction between two people who find each other visually appealing. Nothing more.”

“You mean to tell me,” Geillis said, sitting forward in her seat. “That you don’t believe your parents didn’t love each other?”

The blood drained from Claire’s naturally pale face.

“That was low and you know it.”

“Just because it still hurts doesn’t mean you should avoid it. They loved each other, didn’t they?”

“I wouldn’t know. I was too young when they both died. You know that, Geillis. Why would you bring it up?”

Her best friend, and often best source of irritation, stared at her curiously.

“There’s something about you, Claire. Always has been. Like you belong somewhere else.”

Claire grabbed Geillis’ bottle of her favorite whiskey and looked at it dramatically.

“Exactly how much was in this when you started drinking?”

“I’m not drunk! But I believe you are the product of true love, and that’s a rare thing. EVEN IF,” she said loudly to interrupt Claire’s protest. “You don’t believe in it, I do. And true love is the most powerful magic in the universe.”

With a sigh, she put the cap back on the whiskey and took her empty glass to the kitchen. They’d had this discussion before, at least a hundred times. But Claire was a practical woman. True love wasn’t practical or useful. 

A small part of her, and she’d  _ never _ admit this to Geillis, also believed no man had yet been worthy of her love - had she any to give. Even the one she was currently seeing was a calculated choice, not an infatuation. Frank was smart, had a successful career as a university professor, and had a good future. Herself newly finished with her medical training, she saw a comfortable future with Frank. Perhaps a child or two, once they got married. He was the practical choice, a good match of intellect and physical attraction. What else was there to look for in a man?

“You talk like you’ve felt this elusive  _ true love _ before.”

“And what if I have?” Geillis asked from the depths of her room. “Would that change anything for you?”

“I can count on one fist the number of men you’ve loved, Geillis Duncan. We’ve been friends far too long for you to get away with that.”

Geillis returned to the front room dressed in her favorite baggy shirt and trousers, ready for their weekly film date.

“You cannot!”

Claire held up a fist and tried to count her fingers.

“That’s… None. Geillis, you’ve never been in love with anyone.”

“That is not true! I fall in love all the time! I LOVE love!”

“Nooo,” Claire said slowly, walking down to her own room. “You fall in lust. You bring him home, shag the hell out of him, and send him packing before the sheets have cooled.”

As she, too, dressed in her sleeping outfit, she heard Geillis snort.

“Just because I fall in love all the time doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.”

“I long for the day,” Claire said, emerging as Geillis put a DVD into the player. “When you finally meet the man you’re just  _ meant to be with _ . We’ll see what you say then.”

Those too-green eyes lit and glinted at her.

“You said when. Not if. When. As if you believe it could happen…”

“It could happen to you, perhaps. Not to me. I don’t have any use for those sorts of things.”

Geillis hit play on the DVD remote, but turned to face Claire on their small couch.

“What if I could prove it.”

“Hush, Geillis. The film is starting.”

After making a sound of irritation, she paused the movie and waited for Claire to look at her.

“So? What if I could prove it?”

“You can’t.”

“But if I could?”

Claire shrugged, at a loss. She had no idea what it was Geillis was getting at.

“What if you could? What do you want?”

“I want you to fall in love. That reckless, all-consuming passion. You can’t expect me to believe that beanpole you’re seeing is a good lover.”

Claire’s face, always too easy to read and too pale, flushed deep red. Geillis smiled, smelling victory.

“I’ll have you know Frank is an excellent lover. NOT that it’s any of your business.”

“Would you leave Frank if you knew there was something better out there, waiting for you? If I could prove to you that true love  _ does _ exist?”

With a sigh, Claire knew they’d never get this movie properly started while Geillis was fixated on something. 

“ _ If _ , and that’s a BIG if, you could prove to me, without a doubt, that true love exists and I have some bloody soul mate waiting for me out there, yes. I’d leave Frank.”

A triumphant smile came to Geillis’ lips and she settled back in her seat, smug.

“Good. Because we’ve an appointment with a powerful psychic tomorrow.”

Claire barely contained her moan of irritation. This wouldn’t be the first time, or the last, that Geillis had dragged her to some psychic’s shop to have her palms read. The only benefit from those trips came in the form of Geillis paying for both their sessions and taking her out to lunch after.

“Besides,” Geillis said, hitting ‘play’ on the remote again. “It’s not as if Frank’s proposed yet.”

***

Grudgingly, Claire followed her crazy best friend into a very ordinary looking shop. There were no signs or posters anywhere advertizing it as a psychic’s place of business and Claire was beginning to wonder if Geillis had set her up on a blind date. Again.

“Geillis, if you’ve-”

She stopped suddenly when she saw a large figure looming in a doorway.

“Morning, ladies. I take it you’re my first appointments?”

“Yes,” Geillis said, popping up from nowhere. “We are. I’m-”

“Please,” his deep, strong voice came. “Don’t tell me anything. It taints the reading.”

He stepped out from the shadows and Claire looked up to meet his eyes. They were a curious shade of blue, seemingly shifting in hue as she looked at them. The hair on his head was short and bright red, with a hint of a curl at the very tips. His eyes narrowed as he looked her over.

“I’ll see you first,” he announced abruptly.

Claire was about to protest and insist that Geillis had the first appointment, but he didn’t wait for her to agree. Instead, he turned and strode off into a back room, clearly expecting Claire to follow.

“Geillis you owe me,” she hissed as she rushed after him.

“Tell me everything!” Geillis called back.

The room was nothing like she expected. No crystal balls on a red velvet tablecloth, no candles or incense burning, no dim lighting or macabre art on the walls. It was quite simply, a plain sitting room. A small table had a teapot and settings for two, biscuits, and two large, comfortable looking chairs.

“Would you like some tea, Miss Beauchamp?”

Her mouth fell open, staring up at him.

“Did-”

“No,” he interrupted. “Geillis didn’t tell me anything about you. I’m not even the one that makes appointments.”

“So what are-”

She cut herself off when he offered her a cup of tea.

“You think I’m a fraud.”

Hiding her face behind the elegant cup, she tried to come up with an answer.

“That wasn’t a question, Miss Beauchamp, but a statement of fact.”

“Oh.”

“Not your first time visiting a psychic then?”

Claire’s eyes rolled.

“No.”

She was in the habit of giving out as little information as possible. That was how the others had worked, sucking information out of you until they could lie enough to convince you to believe it.

“I’m Jamie Fraser. When you’ve finished with your tea, I’ll read the leaves.”

“No crystal balls or seance?”

He shot her a wicked grin and shook his head.

“Well we’re not here to call up the dead, are we? I was given to understand you’re looking for your soulmate.”

Yet again, her mouth fell open.

“I… How did-”

“I’m very good at reading people, Miss Beauchamp. And you are quite an easy read, more so than most.”

“How in the hell do you always know what I’m about to say?!”

“Everything you think is written across your face, plain as day. As for the other things, well… Let’s just call it a family trait. My sister also has the Sight, though not as strong as mine. Her children will likely not inherit the gift, though it could still happen. How about we take a look at those leaves, hm?”

Handing the cup over, Claire fell silent and waited. Jamie got up and pulled an old book from a table in one corner, flipping through it for reference. His brows drew down in puzzlement.

“So tell me, oh seer. Am I to meet a tall, dark stranger and go on an adventure?”

“I’ve never seen leaves like this before,” he said absently, still staring at the table. “No’ in my whole life.”

She blinked in shock at the slip of an accent. Was he not an Englishman?

“I’d like to read your palm, if you don’t mind,” he said, sitting up suddenly. “It’ll be a part of your appointment. Won’t charge extra.”

“Oh, um… Alright?”

Holding her hands out, palm up, she offered them to him. He leaned over them, tracing the lines in her skin.

“This is quite unusual indeed.”

“What is?”

“I’ve never seen a lifeline forked like this. As if you’ve a big choice to make. Neither will lead to destruction, but one is clearly the better of the other.”

“Which one? What sort of choice?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer those. But I can see you’ve a strong will. Always a good thing in a woman.”

His large fingers still traced her hand, warm against hers.

“Miss Beauchamp, would you mind returning later in the week for another reading? I’ve a few things I’d like to research and ask some experts about. You’re quite a mystery and I’d like to get to the bottom of it.”

“I don’t think-”

“Please?”

Meeting those unusually blue eyes, she watched them shift and change.

“Al-alright.”

“Thank you. I’m afraid I’ve taken up yours and Geillis’ appointments and my next client will be here soon.”

Claire sighed.

“Something tells me Geillis won’t mind.”

“Have a lovely day, Miss Beauchamp.”

***

As soon as the women had left the house, Jamie slipped to the back and went up the stairs. He lived on the floor above where he met clients. Most were what anyone would expect, people seeking to remove the veil of mystery from the future. Few came looking for real answers and fewer still came and didn’t believe any of it.

But this Claire Beauchamp… He was sure they’d never met before, and yet he knew her. Knew her face, the way her tawny eyes evaluated the words he spoke. Somewhere in his mind, he knew the taste of her full lips, knew the feel of her body beneath his. He knew the sounds she made in the throes of passion, or her grunt of irritation when something didn’t work the way she hoped.

There was no other appointment after Geillis and Claire, that had been a lie. But he needed to check something, just to be sure. Throwing open the door to his library, he went straight for a shelf he’d scarcely looked at in five years. 

Each leatherbound book had a date on the side. They were his dream journals, or the dreams he was sure had been visions. He hadn’t had a dream like that in some time, not since his father’s passing, but he had a niggling feeling. 

Closing his eyes, he opened the book and began turning the pages without looking. He suddenly stopped, feeling that he’d reached the right place. When he looked down, his heart began to beat erratically. 

Sketched on one entire page was the woman he’d just met with. Her gaze was piercing, even in a sketch, and he felt as if she was looking right at him. The dark, curling hair was wild around her, not fully contained on the page. Her lips curved with the hint of a smile, like she knew something he didn’t. 

Hastily, he turned the page. Only a few words were written on the back.

_ I must find her. I have dreamt of her every night for a month, in flashes. I do not know her, but I know she is my very soul. She is the only person I might love. For the White Lady born of True Love could be the only match for Red Jamie. I. Must. Find. Her. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An odd connection is developing between Jamie the psychic and Claire Beauchamp. Neither one of them understands what's happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, there are erotic dreams in this chapter.

Claire didn’t go home with Geillis that night, unsure about what had happened with that strange psychic man.

“Claire  _ please _ ! You have to tell me everything!”

“There’s nothing to tell! He read my tea leaves, read a little from my palms and told me to come back.”

“Then why won’t you come home? Afraid I’ll pester you until you crack?”

Smiling, Claire rolled her eyes.

“Well you’re likely to do that anyway. But no. I’ve got a date with Frank tonight.”

“Oh,” Geillis said flatly. “You’ll be spending the night with him, then?”

“Yes. Unlike you, I prefer my love making to be private.”

Geillis gave her a coy smile.

“I can’t help it if I’m a passionate lover.”

“My only wish is that your ‘passion’ would be a little more quiet. I’m just going to change and then meet up with him for lunch between his classes.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll get the details out of you later.”

As they headed back toward their apartment, Claire realized she hadn’t gotten the number for the place or made an official appointment to return. No matter. She’d just come back when she had time.

Her lunch with Frank was normal, same as always. He talked about his classes, his problem students, how many he thought would pass his exams. She told him about the film she and Geillis had watched the night before. For some odd reason, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him about her strange experience with the mysterious Jamie Fraser.

She made dinner for them both in his apartment, ready and on the table when he arrived. They ate and made plans to go see a new museum exhibit the next week. A life with him would be comfortable, uneventful, and she would want for nothing. He would provide a good home and be a good father.

The palm of her hand tingled where Jamie had touched her and she thought about his words. 

_ As if you’ve a big choice to make. Neither will lead to destruction, but one is clearly the better of the other. _

Looking up from her own hand, she saw Frank waiting for an answer.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Are you ready for bed?”

“Oh, yes. I’m sorry, I completely zoned out for a moment.”

She followed him back to his bedroom where they made love the same way they always did. It wasn’t bad, but neither was it as amazing as Geillis always made it sound.

When she finally drifted asleep, she had the strangest dreams. The air around her smelled different, everything seemed younger, fresher.

_ She was walking, barefoot, through the wet grass. It was raining, but that wasn’t surprising for her. She was searching for something. No, for someone. He promised he’d meet her here, that he wouldn’t make her wait a moment longer. _

_ “Christ, ye look like a wee Faerie, running about through the grass like that. Come here to me, Sassenach.” _

_ “You’re late,” she said, turning to the familiar voice.  _

_ Turning around, she searched for his eyes, but her gaze couldn’t move from his lips. _

_ “I was here on time, as I promised. But I didna want to interrupt ye.” _

_ “Please, it’s been long enough!” _

_ Large hands moved over her body in a way that only a lover would do. She felt him untie the laces at the back of her gown. _

_ “It’s been two whole days, a nighean. Surely ye canna be that desperate.” _

_ Her fingers found the sturdy folds of his kilt and began to tug them up. Finally, her gown loosened and she wriggled out of it, standing before him in only her thin shift.  _

_ “Closer to three, and yes I can. You’ve rather a voracious appetite, my lad, and I’ve gotten used to it.” _

_ “It’s that good then, is it?” _

_ “You know it is, you Scottish bastard.” _

_ He had several days of stubble on his chin as he bent and kissed her. But oh! How she’d missed this mouth! Rough hands ran over her back and down to her buttocks, where he squeezed and let out a sigh. _

_ “Roundest arse I’ve ever had the pleasure to see. And fondle.” _

_ “I’m really not concerned with the fondling of my arse at the moment, good sir.” _

_ “Fair point, my lady.” _

_ While he worked on the ties of his shirt, she pulled his belt free and shook his kilt out on the ground. While this wouldn’t be the first time they’d made love out of doors, she wasn’t fond of the debris that got stuck on her everywhere.  _

_ God the smell of him, the feel of his toned body beneath her hands, the taste of his tongue probing inside her mouth. It was all too much. She shrugged out of her shift and lay down on his kilt, watching as he admired her naked body. _

_ “Have I told ye lately, mo chridhe,” he whispered, speckling her skin with kisses as he made his way up to her lips. “How much I love ye?” _

_ “Not in the last hour, no.” _

_ “I love you,” he kissed beneath her left breast. “I love you.” A kiss beneath her right. “I love you.” A kiss right between them. _

_ Taking fistfuls of his bright red hair in both her hands, she pulled his mouth up to her own. _

_ “Come show me how much, my beloved husband.” _

Then two blue eyes locked with her own. Eyes she’d seen before. The color seemed to be shifting through every shade of blue in existence.

_ “MINE,” growled his voice, thick with lust. “You are mine alone! Mine forever! I’ll no’ give ye up to another! No’ now, no’ ever!” _

_ “Yes!” she screamed back at him, digging her fingers into whatever flesh she could find. _

_ Her body was trembling beneath him, though not from cold. Both of her legs struggled to lock around him, her hips lifting to meet his thrusts. God she didn’t want this to ever end. _

_ “Look at me, Claire!” _

_ Forcing her eyes open, she met his gaze. _

_ “Promise me. Promise me that we’ll always find each other. In this life and the next.” _

_ “I swear it. I’m yours, forever and always Jamie. I love you.” _

Claire shot up in bed, panting and sweating. Her body shook in a way it had never done before. Her breasts ached and there was a heavy dampness between her legs that hadn’t been there before.

Trying not to wake Frank, she got up and went to splash water on her face. Staring at herself in the mirror, she ran hands through her hair.

“What the hell was that, Beauchamp?”

***

Jamie tossed and turned, restless. In all his reading through his journals, he’d gleaned no further information on Miss Beauchamp.

Then all at once, he knew he’d fallen asleep. This wasn’t a normal dream, but the first vision he’d had in years.

_ He watched her wander through the field, stalking her as a wolf did a rabbit. But he would have her in his arms soon enough. _

_ And then he had her, in his arms, smelling like the wet earth and that heady scent of her arousal. He couldn’t undress her fast enough, couldn’t feel her bare skin soon enough. Nearly three days, sleeping alone. Far, far too long. _

_ Then he was above her, staring down into those inhumanly golden eyes, her breasts rubbing slightly against his chest as she panted. _

_ “I love you,” he whispered against the skin of her chest. _

_ “Come show me how much, my beloved husband.” _

_ Husband. They’d been married a month ago in secret. No one knew they had. He’d given her a silver ring and the key to his estate, along with his heart and virginity. But she kept them hidden.  _

_ He’d felt the ring sewn into one of her pockets, always with her. He had no idea what she’d done with the key. It didn’t matter. They belonged to each other and no one else. Soon enough, he’d get her with child and no one could separate them. _

_ White hot pain pricked over his body where she clawed and drew blood. _

_ “MINE,” he growled into her ear, resisting the urge to bite it. “You are mine alone! Mine forever! I’ll no’ give ye up to another! No’ now, no’ ever!” _

_ “Yes!” _

_ Hearing her say that, while her hips lifted to meet his, gave him a primal pleasure he didn’t understand. Her body jerked as he felt himself prepare for release. His howl started low and guttural before growing in volume until- _

Throwing the sheets off, he swung his legs over one side of his bed and put his hands on his knees. It took him several minutes to catch his breath and keep his hands from shaking. Christ he’d forgotten how intensely real these visions could be.

Visions of things he’d never experienced were the worst. Having never lain with a woman, he could only assume it would feel like that.

“Holy God,” he muttered to himself, running a hand over his head. “What just happened, Fraser? Get yourself together, man.”

Missing his longer hair, he took another breath and reached for the empty dream journal he kept beside his bed. For now he would jot down the notes and quick sketches quickly. Later, after he’d had time to study the vision, he’d write it down properly in the big book, sketch things out and take his time about it.

Wondering when he would see Miss Beauchamp again, he decided to take a shower and not dwell on his vision; or how he could still taste her in his mouth, or feel her breasts beneath his hands. Christ, he could still feel her nipples between his teeth, feel her trembling, smell the intensity of her want for him. Perhaps he needed a cold shower.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire returns for her second reading with the mysterious Jamie Fraser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for posting this late. I thought I'd already updated it on this site, but I hadn't.

Three days. It had been three days since he’d had that vision of Claire, since he’d seen and felt every part of her. Over and over he’d tried to study the vision, write down as many details as he could. It wasn’t an effort to be perverted, but to try and understand what the hell the vision had meant. 

He hadn’t given Miss Beauchamp his number, or asked for hers, because he had a feeling she’d come around by the end of the week. She was far too curious about him and his powers to stay away.

Staring down at the journal, he traced the curve of her lower lip as she bit down on it. The words scribbled beneath it, he barely remembered writing. 

_ Have I found her? Has the White Lady finally come to me? What am I to do now? If she is truly the White Lady, born of True Love, what does it mean? God, she is more beautiful than I could have imagined... _

***

Five days after he’d met Miss Beauchamp, he prepared tea and biscuits. If his inkling was right, she’d be by right around tea time. Right on time, she knocked on his door. He opened it and tried to give her a polite, friendly smile. 

“Miss Beauchamp. Pleasure to see you again.”

When her eyes met his, his smile faltered. That odd, golden color brought back sharp images of his vision. Glowing, glittering, wide with passion. Watching as the corners of those eyes scrunched as they squeezed shut. How they could hold his gaze like he was locked in a trance.

“I… I meant to be by sooner, but… you know. Life and such.”

Her eyes could only meet his for a moment. Before they darted away, pink coloring her cheeks. 

“You came when I expected you.”

_ I want you to come with me, beloved.  _

He shook his head, that echo sending fire through his veins. She hadn't said that in the vision, so where had it come from?

“Right. Look, about what happened last time… I still don't really believe all this. I don't know why I'm here, to be honest.”

Holding the door open, he waved her inside. They went back to the same room as before, the tea and biscuits waiting. 

“You're going to read my leaves again?”

“No, I don't think so. Your leaves were… complicated. I think today we’ll go with something simpler. This is just tea.”

Narrowing her eyes, she accepted the cup from him and took a sip. First, she stared down at the cup in shock, before taking another eager drink. 

“This is-”

“Your favorite, yes?”

“How did you-”

With a smirk, he tapped the side of his head. 

“Psychic, remember?”

They fell quiet as they had their tea. He noticed she'd pushed herself to the edge of her chair opposite him, her body language closed off. Something was different today. 

“You don't need to be afraid of me, Miss Beauchamp. I mean you no harm.”

Her brows lifted as she put the cup down on the table. 

“And how would I know that? Because you said so?”

“Fair point.”

While they'd been drinking, he'd been studying her, learning about her. His gift came in the form of seeing the past or the future. He couldn't read minds, though he was very good at reading faces, so people often assumed he could. 

He only caught bits and pieces of her younger life. There was a car accident, which had a heavy impact on her. A nomadic young existence which left her in want of a permanent home. Something inside her was afraid, hiding away in a dark corner hoping never to be discovered. 

“So?”

“What?” He asked, leaning back in his chair. 

“Prove to me you're a psychic and not some fraud Geillis hired to torment me.”

A deep breath, calming his thoughts, pushing all else to the back of his mind, he focused on her. Navigating his way carefully through memories, he followed a strong feeling until he saw what he needed. 

_ She was there, sitting on her bed. Geillis giggled in the front room, still occupied with her latest catch. Claire took an envelope out of the drawer in her nightstand, pulling out the photos. For a long time, she just stared at them.  _

His eyes opened slowly, rising to meet hers. One of her eyebrows was lifted in question, clearly waiting for him to blurt out a vague idea she could confirm or deny.

“When Geillis is busy,” he said before he paused to clear his throat. “You sneak into your bedroom to be alone for a moment. There’s an envelope in your nightstand drawer with photos of your parents. The only ones you have left, I believe. You look at them every night, but you’ve never told your best friend.”

The echo of her memory sang through his thoughts still, fading as he let his concentration lapse.

“You used to hold a mirror beside your mother’s portrait, just to see how much like her you look. You haven’t done that in years, not since you started to really look like her.”

Claire’s mouth was hanging wide open, eyes bright with shock. She began to shake her head slowly back and forth, trying to deny what he’d just told her.

“You can’t possibly… No one even… That can’t be true… You can’t… How…”

“Am I wrong?”

“Well… No, but you must be. You can’t have known about…”

“Geillis doesn’t know about the pictures, so she couldn’t have told me. You’ve never seen me before the other day, so I haven’t been spying on you. How else would I know about them, and that you look at them every night, if I wasn’t a psychic?”

She suddenly crossed her arms over her chest and pulled her legs up onto the chair. Tears welled in her eyes, opened wide in fear. His heart turned over at the sight. 

“You said you wanted me to prove it. I’m sorry if I took it too far, but it had to be something Geillis didn’t know about already.”

“Those… Those are the only photos I have…”

“It was a car crash, that took them from you?”

“Stop doing that!” she snapped, hastily wiping the tears from her face.

Jamie held his hands up, palms out in surrender.

“I’m sorry, Miss Beauchamp. Sometimes… This gift of mine gets away from me sometimes and I forget what it feels like to others. I apologize.”

Claire’s eyes were on the floor, glazed and unfocused. Had he just gone too far?

***

There was no way this man she’d only met once before could possibly know that. Not even if he’d been outside her window. But he knew. He knew that she had two photographs. He knew that she looked at them almost every night. That she’d held a mirror up when she was little. That she’d lost them in a car crash. How had he said it? A car crash that had taken them from her.

That loss, at such a young age, had started something in her. The first loves she’d ever had, her doting parents, had been snatched away from her. The man that had raised her had also been stolen away. 

“Why?” she blurted, still not looking at him. “Why did you ask me to come back? Just so you could pry open my secrets?”

“No,” he said quickly, voice very gentle. “Not at all. I’m deeply sorry for causing you such distress.”

After hearing that deep, Scottish burr in her dream, she thought she could hear a hint of it in his English accent. She'd noticed it the first time they'd met and had wondered why he hid it. Now, taking in everything he'd just told her, Claire thought she now knew all  _ too _ well. Movement caught her eye and she looked up to see him start to reach out for her, only to stop himself and sit back in his chair.

“So why? It’s obviously not because of Geillis.”

“I truly don’t know. There’s something that…,” he paused, as if rethinking what he was going to say. “What I said before is true. I’ve never read leaves like yours. Or seen such unique lines on a palm. And then the vision-”

He stopped suddenly and her eyes flashed up to his. Vision? She’d had an intensely erotic dream about him a few nights before, but she’d pretended it had been exhaustion and the wine at dinner with Frank. Her chest felt tight as her tears of sadness changed to tears of anger. 

“What. Vision.”

“Miss Beauchamp, you have to understand-”

“Did you see my death!?”

“What? No! No, I rarely see someone’s death. No, I see snippets of the past, or vague notions of the future. That’s all.”

Now it was his turn to look away from her. The tips of his slightly pointed ears turned pink and then deep red. Her heart began racing as she watched the red deepen.

“What the hell did you see?”

“I’m not sure I should say. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea of me. I have no control over these visions.”

“If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to walk out of here and you’ll never  _ ever _ see me again.”

Jamie’s eyes fastened on hers again, their earnestness making her swallow. His brow furrowed in thought as he chose his words.

“It… It came in glimpses. Two people, waiting for each other. He watched her wander through a field, enjoying her freedom. Then… It skipped, not flowing clearly. Then they were together, him above and her below. They were desperate, lusting, like they hadn’t been together in some time. Married. They wanted a child. He wore a kilt. He… They…” he paused, taking in a shallow breath and letting it out again. “I could  _ taste _ her, feel her quivering beneath me.”

Jamie opened his eyes slowly and looked at her. Claire found herself on the edge of her seat, her nails digging into the underside of the chair she sat on. 

“And that's it?”

“I woke before they… Concluded their meeting.”

Claire swallowed, her belly tightening at the memory of that very moment she thought her body was on fire, lost in sensation, before she'd awoken next to Frank. 

“He had blue eyes,” she whispered. “Like yours.”

“I don’t know that. But her eyes were… Very much like yours.”

“No, I mean… I saw him. His eyes. I… I  _ felt _ something. Like I was there. Like it was real.”

Claire heard Jamie's breath hitch slightly; watched him gaze at her, his lips slightly apart. She knew without truly knowing that his mouth was soft and warm. His eyes dilated, and his breath came shorter. Claire barely had enough time to realize something was happening when he spoke. 

***   
He recognized the feeling, but was confused. It never happened during his waking hours.

_ Tears ran down her cheeks, flushed from anger or passion he didn’t know. _

Claire was looking at him with wide eyes, concerned.

_ “Please,” she pleaded with him. “It must be tonight.” _

The electric lights around him came into sudden, sharp focus.

“I’m sorry,” he said, barely suppressing his Scottish accent. “I’m not sure what’s happening.”

Then everything around him tilted sideways and slipped away from him.

_ “Hush, mo nighean donn. I’ll no’ deny ye. Haven’t ye learned that by now?” _

_ “Please! It has to be tonight!” _

_ “Why?” _

_ She hiccuped with a sob and met his eyes. _

_ “It just does. Please.” _

_ He smiled at her and checked around the corner. The rest of the castle was asleep, giving them a few precious moments to sneak out undetected. _

_ “Come wi’ me. I’ve just the place.” _

Jamie came back to himself with a sudden snap. Prying his eyes open, he looked at the tear-streaked face before him, golden eyes glinting. 

“Mo nighean…” he croaked, reaching out as if to wipe the tears from her cheeks. But a mind-numbing pain seared through his head and he cried out, clutching his hair. “Ifrinn!”

Claire nearly launched off her chair.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! Jamie, what’s wrong!?”

“Aaahhh!”

“Do you have aspirin somewhere?”

He pointed in the direction he hoped the bureau was. The drawer squeaked as she pulled it open. Rattling of pills against the plastic bottle sounded like a drumline in his head.

“Here,” she said, a cool hand beneath his chin. “Open up and drink. Careful… That’s it.”

Finally, the pain began to ebb away, slowly receding like the ocean’s tide.  

“Thank you,” he said after clearing his throat. “I apologize for that, Miss Beauchamp.”

Opening his eyes slowly, he saw that she’d moved back to her chair. 

“That looked like a nasty migraine…  _ lad _ .”

His jaw clenched and his heart began to race.

“What do you mean?”

“It seems that you know my secrets and I know yours.”

“And what secret of mine have you learned?”

“You’re not English. You’re a Scot. And I suspect you’re hiding it for a good reason, probably to keep yourself under the radar of whoever.”

Staring up at her, he felt the blood drain from his face.

“Please… You mustn’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t. Like I said, we know each other’s secrets now. But… About that migraine of yours. If that gets any worse, I’d got and see someone about it. That can be a sign of something serious.”

“I will. Thank you. I’m afraid I’ve kept you longer than I intended.”

She stood and he carefully got to his own feet. He walked her to the door where they both hesitated.

“Will I… Ah… If that was a vision of yours, why did I have the same exact dream?”

“I’m not really sure about that. It was a rather strong one, for me, and it felt as if it had a connection to you, somehow. Perhaps that was why. I’m truly sorry it bothered you. I don’t think it’ll happen again.”

“Good. I suppose… Good day, Mr. Fraser.”

“Good day, Miss Beauchamp.”

Jamie closed the door behind her and thought about what had happened. He’d never had a waking vision before. That was new - and very strong. Perhaps he’d speak with Jenny or Murtagh about it, see what they thought. Jenny knew more about it than he did, she’d known Willie longer. 

His heart clenched, thinking of his lost elder brother.  _ No. No I must not think of that.  _ For a moment, he allowed himself to contemplate Claire, to see when she might be back. But just as he was beginning to get a glimpse of her coming in the front door, his head began throbbing. Best wait a while before doing that.

Nearly two weeks later, Jamie finished preparing his afternoon tea when a knock came at the door. Smiling, he thought it might be Claire, come to see him again.

“Who’s that, lad?”

Murtagh came out from the kitchen, frowning at the door.

“It’s probably Claire. She’s due back soon.”

“And why’s that? She’s got a man already.”

“Curiosity, Murtagh. She’s a smart lass and I’m a mystery.”

Jamie pulled the door open and his smile dropped from his face.

“Iffrin! Murtagh!”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More is learned about the connection between Jamie and Claire, including a bit more about Jamie's past.

Claire sat curled up on the couch, blanket tucked in around her, as she nursed her glass of wine. Geillis would be home soon more than likely and Claire could only hope she’d return alone. Picking up the TV remote, Claire flipped through the channels aimlessly, wanting to settle on something that didn’t require her to think or follow a complex plot. She finally settled on some reality program and let her mind rest.

But she felt restless, like there was something important that she’d forgotten. An urge to get up and move about the apartment came over her like an ocean wave, as strong as it was sudden. It had been a long day at the hospital, checking on her patients after their operations. All she really wanted was a quiet night at home where she could turn her mind off and not be anything, yet here she was, mind racing and thoughts bouncing to and fro like an internal tennis match. 

She shook herself back to reality when a key in the door unlocked the deadbolt. Claire set down her empty glass and pulled herself out of the slouch she’d fallen into. Geillis waltzed in, face a little flushed and hair slightly out of sorts.

“Good night, then?”

“Oh, quite,” she said with a predatory smile.

“I take it he was a quick one, or you’d have brought him home.”

“Weel, I kent you’d be here. So I shagged him at the bar.”

Claire snorted.

“Not on it, I hope.”

“Of course not. Now… What have  _ yoooouuuu _ been doing all evening?”

Geillis plopped herself down on the couch, dropping her heels on the floor beside her.

“Just watching some reality program. Nothing exciting. It was a long day.”

“You didn’t go and see that psychic lad again?”

“Again? Geillis, how many times must I tell you. I saw him the day you  _ dragged _ me there and never again.”

Emerald green eyes narrowed at her, disbelieving. Frank had told her once never to play poker because she was a rubbish liar. She’d never seen the point in lying to begin with, so it hadn’t really mattered. But something about Jamie, about the time they’d spent together, made her hide the information from Geillis. 

“But  _ why _ !? Claire! He asked you back! You took my appointment with him and then he asked you back for  _ another personal reading _ !”

“As I’ve said at least a dozen times since then, Geillis Duncan, I don’t believe in psychics or spirits or true love. It’s all fairy tales given to children.”

Geillis waved her hand in a dismissive manner and headed off to her bedroom. Judging by the strength of the whiskey on her breath, she’d be passed out within a quarter hour. So, Claire turned the reality program back on and watched it for a while. Still… This nagging sensation in the back of her mind…

With a huff, she got to her feet and dug around the flat for a scrap piece of paper. After scribbling a note, Claire grabbed her keys and went out.

_ Geillis - Went out for a walk. Be back soon. Don’t worry.  _

The cool night air bit at her cheeks as she walked, but it soothed her. There was no destination to her walking, she only wanted the movement and fresh air. As she gradually began to relax, her thoughts wandered back to Jamie. True, he’d asked that she not tell anyone he was a Scot. But he hadn’t asked her to conceal her entire visit altogether. That had been… Instinct?

Flashes of that strange, shared dream had come back to her nearly every night. The feel of his lips on her neck, his teeth moving down her chest, the way his fingers moved so deftly in her-

Shaking her head again, she reminded herself it had been  _ his _ vision, not hers. That thought, however, reminded her of his sudden migraine. The unknown cause was bad enough, but even he’d said it was unusual. Before she could think about it, her feet turned and started taking her down to his shop. They’d never exchanged personal numbers, so she had no other way to contact him. 

“Besides,” she muttered to herself. “He claims to be an all powerful psychic. He’ll see me coming. Probably knew I was coming before I did.”

When she arrived at the shop, she noticed the lights were all on. Blinking up at the door, she tried to remember all the turns she’d taken to get there, but couldn’t. She felt as if she’d been entranced and had come to this place completely without thought. 

If the lights were on, someone should be home. Stepping up to the door, she knocked on it gently. It swung open on silent hinges as if it had been expecting her.

“Odd,” she said quietly. “He’s not usually one for being creepy.”

_ Right _ , she thought.  _ Because you know him so well? You’ve spent maybe two hours with him in the last two weeks and you know he’s not one for being creepy? Get a hold of yourself, Beauchamp. _

Walking slowly, she moved down the same hall he’d taken her twice. Something about the place felt… off.

“Hello? Is anyone home?”

A deep grunt was her only greeting and she went in search of it.

“Hello?” she called again. “I’m not sure where you are. I’ve only come to help.”

“Here,” answered a voice she didn’t recognize.

What she did recognize, however, was the thread of pain in it. Moving faster, she turned a corner into a kitchen and found him sitting on the floor. He leaned against the wall, one arm clutched protectively over his ribs. One eye was swollen shut, his bottom lip was split, and Claire suspected he had a decent head wound somewhere, judging from the blood coating one side of his face.

“Who the devil are ye?!” he demanded, free hand groping for something to defend himself with.

“Claire!” she said, holding up her hands. “Claire Beauchamp!”

“What do ye want?”

“I only came to see if Jamie was alright. He got a nasty migraine a while back when I was here and I wanted to check if it had come back or gotten worse! I only came to help!”

She knelt down beside him and began prodding his head gently. He yelped and jerked his head away when she found the gash in his scalp, right near a decently sized lump. 

“Aye, I ken I’ll need stitches. And I’ve broken my ribs again. I’ll do.”

“Wait,” she blinked down at him, tearing her eyes from the lump on his head. “You’re Scottish too?”

The one eye that wasn’t swollen shut darted up and met hers, wariness and rage warring in it.

“What do ye ken about the lad?”

“That he believes he’s a powerful psychic and he’s got to hide from someone or something. I know we had the same dream about two weeks ago.”

“Who do ye work for?! How did ye find us!”

Claire lurched back when a knife came suddenly to her throat.

“I don’t work for anyone! You mustn't move like that! You’re only going to cause yourself more pain. And who the bloody hell are you?”

“Jamie’s guardian.”

Getting up, she went to the sink and wet a rag to clean him off with.

“Your name?”

His good eye narrowed in a glare and Claire returned the look, with interest.

“Look, I don’t work for anyone. I sort of had a feeling I needed to come here, so I did. All I wanted to do was make sure he was alright.”

With the blood cleaned off his face, he didn’t look too bad. A little dour maybe, but not as angry as he’d first seemed.

“The lad needs ye.”

“Where is he?”

“Tell me… Are ye true to him? Ye really willna betray him to…  _ them _ .”

Heaving a sigh, she got to her feet, anxious to find Jamie and find out what the bloody hell was going on. 

“Given that I don’t have any bloody clue who  _ they _ are, no. I won’t betray him. I already promised I’d keep his secret. He knows mine.”

After what felt an eternity he nodded once.

“I’m Murtagh. Jamie made it upstairs to the panic room. We converted the attic. Go upstairs to the library, second door on the left. Pull the book wi’ the red spine that says  _ The Truth About the ‘45 _ . That’ll open the door. Jamie will be inside. I canna get up the stairs wi’ these ribs.”

Taking the stairs two at a time, she paused on the landing and counted the doors on the left hand side. The library wasn’t quite what she’d expected. She’d thought it would be like any old library, filled with old books that were rarely touched. What she found was the oddest assortment of books she’d ever seen, all with creased spines and well-worn pages. 

_ How much time does Jamie spend in here, _ she wondered.

Peering carefully at the unfamiliar collection, she found the bright red spine that read  _ The Truth About the ‘45 _ and pulled it. A quiet click sounded before the entire case began swinging away from the wall. Claire leapt back and looked down, seeing a small trail of blood droplets.

“Jesus H…”

“M…”

“Jamie?”

“Murggaahh…”

She rushed into the brightly lit room and turned in a slow circle. Jamie was propped against a wall, much like Murtagh had been, but was in much worse condition.

“Jesus H. Bloody Christ!”

Both of his eyes were nearly swollen shut, blood trickled from his nose in an alarmingly steady stream, his face was a webwork of bruises and scrapes, the knuckles on both hands were raw and bloody. His left hand was pressed against his side and she could see the drying blood staining his skin. Puncture? How deep? How long had he been bleeding?

Not long, by the looks of the small puddle on the floor. The tiny slits of ever-changing blue met her eyes and widened a little.

“Ssncchh,” he mumbled.

“Hush,” she said, dropping to her knees. “You don’t need to speak. Let me take care of you, alright?”

Her hand brushed his shoulder and he winced, causing her to look at it more carefully. She realized his shoulder was completely out of joint, which must be agonizing.

“I need to put your shoulder right. But it’s not in the right position. It’ll hurt like hell, but I promise it’ll feel better when it goes back. Are you ready?”

Eyes locked on hers, he nodded once and she began rolling his arm around, feeling for the right alignment.

“One… Two…” before she got to three, she snapped the shoulder back in place. 

Jamie’s whole body went rigid and he muffled a cry. Before a sound could come out, he slumped back and relaxed. 

“Th… Thank ye,” he mumbled, voice rasping.

“Oh you won’t be thanking me in a minute. What the hell have you and Murtagh done? Gotten into a fight with an elephant?”

He shrugged and winced at the movement.

“Do you have any sort of medkit around? There’s only so much I can do with my bare hands.”

“In… The cupboard. Red bag.”

Claire got to her feet and rummaged around until she found the medkit. It wasn’t as small as she’d been expecting, almost the size of a duffle. Bringing it with her, she set it down and began looking through it. She needed to listen to his breathing, make sure that stab wound wasn’t too deep. Pulling out the stethoscope, she pressed it to his chest and closed her eyes. Heartbeat. Breathing. Clear lung sounds, which was excellent. No punctured lung then. That meant she could stitch up the wound and finish examining the rest of him. But she needed a clear, clean area, so she cut away his shirt, laying the bloody fabric aside.

It was only oozing a little, but the area around it was smudged with blood. Looking around the room quickly, she spotted a small sink. She waited until the water warmed a little before putting the stopper in. Lathering a fresh bar of soap, she soaked a clean cloth in it before returning to him. Careful not to let the soapy water into the wound, she cleaned around it as best she could. By some miracle, this medkit had anesthetic in it.

“This will help numb you a bit so I can check for debris before I close it up, alright?”

He nodded.

She filled a syringe with the anesthetic before injecting all around the wound and waited a few minutes before gently poking near the wound. When he didn’t flinch away or yelp, she took it as her cue. Another syringe, without a needle, sat filled with sterile saline. With it, she irrigated the wound to clear it of any debris that might have found a way in. As carefully as she could, she peeled apart the edges of the wound to take one last look.

“Alright soldier, looks like it’s clean. Time to close you up.”

Claire took a deep, steadying breath, and began closing up the stab wound. It went faster than she’d expected and she was quite pleased with her work when she looked down at it.

“Now,” she said, stretching her back a little. “Let’s have a look at the rest of you.”

“Is… Is Murtagh…”

“He’s alive, but with bruised or broken ribs. I’m not sure. He wouldn’t let me look at him until after I’d tended you. Did they stab you anywhere else?”

“No, they didna.”

Nodding to herself, she cut away the rest of his shirt and hissed at the dark bruises already forming. She cleaned the blood off his skin to check for any lacerations. Most of the bleeding on his face had come from his nose. Thankfully, that flood had ceased. She wiped gingerly around his face, but only found more bruising. A few places where the skin had broken open, likely due to someone’s fist, were already clotting. There wasn’t much she could do for the split lip at this point, but it too had stopped oozing.

“Well, you don’t have anything more serious going on. How’s your head?”

“Throbbin’ a bit.”

“Like the migraine you had last time I was here?”

He nodded shortly.

“A bit. No’ quite so bad. Weel, it was earlier, but no’ as much now.”

Claire exhaled, wiping her brow with the back of her hand as she sat back on her heels and met his eyes squarely. 

“Now, would you care to tell me just what the hell happened here?”

Jamie took as deep a breath he could with his new stitches and nodded again.

“Aye, ye deserve the truth. Ye ken I’m no’ English. I’m hiding out, trying to stay clear of a group that kens how powerful I could be. They want to unleash my power and use it for their own gains. All I want is to have a quiet life, help people when I can. I dinna want to ken the fate of a city or country or entire people.”

“And they want to use you?”

“Aye, they do. Been hunting me for years, ever since…”

The blue of his eyes suddenly shifted into a deep, dark tone.

“Ach, weel. I thought you’d come back, ye ken. I’d seen ye in the hallway, in a different vision, so I thought the knock was you. I see now that the vision I had was you coming in alone, concerned, no’ as I’d thought before.”

“They blitzed you?”

“Something like that, aye. As soon as I kent it wasna you, I called for Murtagh. He’s my godfather, ken? Swore to my mother on her deathbed that he’d keep me safe as if I was his own child. He’s good in a fight, especially an unexpected one like this. I dinna think they meant to stab me, I think they were aimin’ at Murtagh. I just got in the way. But he kept them busy until I could get up here and safe.”

Claire nodded slowly. Jamie visibly relaxed at that, then let out a stifled groan with the movement.

“We really should get you to a hospital.”

“No!” he said, wincing and clutching at his side. “No. That’s the first place they’ll look for me.”

“But-”

“Please,” he said, “please, Claire. Ye canna take me there.”

The look of absolute terror in his eyes swayed her, against her better judgement.

“Fine. But I need to get downstairs and examine Murtagh. He took a nasty blow to the head and I’m afraid he’ll need stitches too. And I’m not leaving you alone up here. Come on, I’ll help you up.”

Taking hold of his left hand, she braced herself and helped him to his feet. He wobbled a little, but a hand on her shoulder helped him steady himself.

“How’s the head.”

“It’s… Starting to hurt a bit.”

His eyes were glazing over as he swayed on his feet.

“Jamie?”

***

_ “No, mo ghraidh… dinna go just yet.” _

_ She giggled contentedly and nuzzled against him. _

_ “I have to, I’m sorry. If I’m not in the surgery soon, they’ll come looking.” _

_ “I’m no’ ready to let ye go yet…” _

_ With a growl, he rolled above her, pinning her down. _

_ “You brute!” _

_ “Aye! I’m a brute! And I have ye at my mercy!” _

_ Peals of laughter echoed in the small room, filling him with indescribable joy. _

“Jamie?”

He swayed again, reaching for the wall to keep from toppling over all together. Everything hurt. Then, it was as if every ounce of pain in his body had moved behind it eyes.. 

“Christ my head…”

His vision began to blur, though not from visions.

“Damn it, your nose is bleeding again.”

She vanished from his sight for a moment before she returned, gently pushing something into his nose. He resisted the urge to sneeze, but was happy to realize blood was no longer running down his face.

“How bad is the pain? Scale of one to ten, ten being unbearable, excruciating pain?”

“Six and a half.”

“Honestly?”

“Seven.”

Her cool, soft hands held his face between them, keeping his head from wobbling.

“Do you mind if I try something?”

“I dinna mind.”

“Is the pain in your temples?”

“Aye.”

Then her long, elegant fingers pressed against his head. Without meaning to, he leaned into the pressure, eyes drawing closed. A lifetime might have passed right by him in those moments and he never would have noticed. All he knew was the connection they had, the way she drew the pain out of his head. 

When she pulled her hands back, he nearly fell over. She smiled up at him, golden eyes glittering.

“Better?”

“Aye, much better. Thank ye.”

“Can you walk now, you think?”

“Verra slowly, but aye. I can walk.”

It took some time, but they got down the stairs and back to the kitchen. Murtagh wasn’t on the floor, at least, but he looked half dead. Half his face was caked with dried blood, his hair matted with it as well. 

“Alright soldier, your turn.”

Jamie eased into a chair and took some amount of pleasure in watching Murtagh go through the same examination he’d just finished. She stitched up his scalp and cleaned the blood from his face and beard. 

When she was satisfied they were both as cleaned up as she could make them, she sat down with a huff.

“Will they come back?”

“No’ tonight. Stabbing Jamie will likely get them in trouble. It was meant for me.”

“So why not kill you and wait for Jamie to emerge?”

Murtagh shrugged and Jamie envied the ease of his movement.

“Dinna ken. But they’ll no’ be back tonight. Ye can head home, lass. I’ve got Jamie.”

“Not with that head wound. I’m not going anywhere until I’m sure the both of you are,” she interrupted herself with a yawn. “Until you’re stable.”

Jamie glanced up at Murtagh, who’s good eye was locked on Claire. He had the most curious expression on his face, one Jamie couldn’t figure out.

“Get some rest, lass. I’m no’ falling asleep for a good while yet.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” she said, yawning again.

Claire leaned forward and folded her arms on the table, resting her head on top of them. She was asleep a moment later.

“Did she touch ye?” Murtagh asked in a harsh whisper.

“What?” Jamie asked, staring blearily at his godfather. “Why?”

“Just answer the bloody question. Did she touch ye?”

Jamie felt his frown deepen.

“Aye… She did.”

“When? What was happening?”

“She’d got me on my feet to come down to she could tend ye. I started havin’ a vision again. The pain was awful. Thought my head was gonna burst. And then she… I dinna ken what it was, Murtagh. But it was beautiful. Like she just reached in and pulled the pain out.”

“And the vision?”

Jamie shook his head before wincing.

“It was over before she did anything. Murtagh, what does this mean? You kent Mam and Da, Willie. I dinna ken what’s happening to me.”

Murtagh made a valiant effort at smiling, though it ended up looking more garish than soothing. It did nothing to tame the fear churning inside him. His visions were getting out of control and he didn’t know what to do. Anyone who might have helped him, who’d gone through this before, was dead. Jenny didn’t have the same powers and not in the same intensity. Loathe as he was to admit it, Jamie was growing fearful of his own power.

“You’re growing, lad. I didna see Brian come into his full powers, ken. But I saw what Ellen did for him a time or two. They were a True Pair, aye? Meant for one another.”

“Aye, Jenny said so. Mam broke an engagement wi’ another man to marry Da.”

Murtagh waved his hand dismissively.

“Ach. That was part of it. But yer da was one of the most powerful psychics in the world. His visions were strong, like yours are, started causin’ him problems. Until he met Ellen. What she did for him… I dinna ken if there’s words strong enough for it. But the look on your face was the same he had after Ellen healed him.”

“Mam was… Mam was a healer?”

“Aye, like yon Claire.”

A tight ache formed in Jamie’s chest at the thought of his mother. He didn’t remember much about her, and only had a few photographs of her. Murtagh had known her for a long time, though he didn’t speak of it often.

“What does it mean?” he asked, heart pounding. “That she’s a healer like Mam?”

“It means ye need to keep her close, aye? If yer visions get worse, like Brian’s did, they could rightly kill ye. Ye need her.”

A sudden realization hit Jamie like a ton of bricks.

“Da didna die of a stroke, did he?”

Murtagh shook his head slowly.

“No, lad. It was his visions what killed him. We only had it written up as a stroke, to try and keep you and Jenny safe. Losing Ellen meant he had no healer to keep the visions from getting too strong.”

Jamie looked at Claire, sleeping peacefully in front of him. A dark tendril of curly hair brushed her pale cheek, making her look heartbreakingly young and innocent. He swallowed and shook his head. 

“She’s got a man, Murtagh, a life. I canna ask her to gi’ that up.”

“When ye first read her tea leaves, and then her palms, what did ye see?”

Jamie closed his eyes to recall the images. 

“No, lad! Dinna do it that way or you’ll start bleedin’ again and she needs time to recover. Just think, dinna call it up again. Use memory, not power.”

Rather than recall the images, he recalled the memories. 

“I told her she had a choice to make, her life branched into two paths. One was uneventful, but comfortable. The other was more exciting. Neither would bring destruction.”

“What do ye think that means?”

“I dinna ken,” Jamie complained, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I try not to interpret things for other people, ye ken that. And I dinna look into my own future.”

Murtagh nodded slowly.

“Aye. But maybe just think about what that might mean for her. And for you. She already keeps your secrets. And she was drawn here tonight, like she kent ye needed her. Your power calls to hers, they compliment each other, ken. Ye need her, but she needs you too.”

Jamie’s eyes moved to Claire again, her mouth hanging slightly open in sleep. He wondered if she would have kept herself awake under more normal circumstances. 

“Did it hurt her? When she healed me?”

“Dinna ken, but I dinna think so. Ellen explained it to me like this. It’s no’ so much that she takes the pain into herself, but she channels it out o’ you.”

“And it willna hurt her?”

“As long as she doesna go too far, no," Murtagh responded, shaking his head. His good eye moved to Claire, exhausted and dead to the world, and his expression softened. "This was, I’d be willin’ to bet, the first time she did this sort o’ healing. I’m surprised she made it down the stairs, let alone stitched me up.”

Jamie took in the sight of her; her pale skin; her brown, curly hair ruffling over her shoulders. If left in that position, she would wake up sore. He couldn’t bear the thought of her in any sort of pain.   
  
“What are ye thinkin’ lad?"

Jamie knew, if left in that position, she would wake up sore. He couldn’t bear the thought of her in any sort of pain.

“That Claire willna wake verra happy if we leave her slumped over like a sack of grain.”

Murtagh rolled his eye.

“And just how do ye expect us to get her onto the couch?”

“No’ the couch. She saved our lives tonight. The spare bedroom, at least.”

The eye went wide enough that Jamie half worried it would fall out of his head.

“Up the stairs?! Have ye gone mad? Claire didna say ye’d been clouted o’er the heid!”

Jamie started to shrug, but caught himself. 

“I havena been clouted o’er the head, Murtagh. Maybe I’ve gone mad, but she  _ did _ save our lives.”

Murtagh pursed his lips, wincing as the split began oozing again.

“Aye. And ye’ve a useless arm. How do ye propose we get her up the stairs? Magic?!”

Jamie rolled his eyes.

“Ye have visions, Jamie. Ye dinna lift things with yer mind.”

“Come on. I’ll no’ leave her here.”

Between the two of them, they somehow got her up the stairs. There was one moment when Jamie was sure Murtagh was about to drop her, but they kept themselves together. Murtagh lay her on the bed and left, seeing no other need. Jamie heard him shuffle down the stairs and putter about the kitchen.

Jamie struggled for a moment before removing her shoes, setting them on the floor beside the bed. Then he brushed back the curls on her forehead, staring at her beautiful face. Before he knew what he was doing, he leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of her head.

“Rest,  _ mo ghraidh _ ,” he whispered in Gaelic, the endearment from his vision coming all too easily in the present. His thumb softly stroked her cheek. "Get peace while you can, for I fear your life has been thrown into chaos by mine.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie has feelings for Claire. Geillis has a secret.

With a great struggle, Claire got her eyes open and looked around. She wasn’t home and she wasn’t at Frank’s. So where the hell was she? How long had she been asleep? Rubbing her eyes with the backs of her hands, she pushed herself up.

After shaking her head, everything came back to her. She’d returned to Jamie Fraser’s house only to find him stabbed and bleeding in his panic room. But she couldn’t remember falling asleep, or how she’d-

“Oh! You’re awake!”

Yelping, she leapt away from the direction of the voice and promptly fell over the side of the bed. Struggling to her feet, she whirled around and looked at Jamie who sat in a chair, eyes wide.

“What the hell?!”

“Sorry, Sassenach! Didna mean to frighten ye. Ye’ve been asleep for a while.”

“Damn it! Where’s Murtagh? I need to check his head wound. And you. How’s your stab wound? And your head? Shoulder? Ribs?”

Jamie smiled at her, softening the lines in his face despite the bruises.

“Murtagh’s brewing tea in the kitchen. I made sure he stayed awake, per yer instructions. Dinna fash, lass. He and I are alright.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, trying to tame her hair a little. “I can’t believe I fell asleep. I don’t have any idea why I did. I can usually keep myself up.”

“I’m sure Murtagh would like to sleep soon, but he willna wi’out yer permission. Can ye walk?”

Nodding, she staggered around the bed, shooting her hand out to brace on the wall.

“Sassenach?”

“Sorry, I’m alright. Just… I’m a little dizzy. Give me a moment.”

Blinking rapidly, Claire tried to get herself to focus.

“Christ, I canna imagine how tired ye must be. Come on, let me help ye to the kitchen. A sturdy cuppa will help ye.”

“I’m fine,” she said, vision still swimming slightly. 

A warm, large hand rested on the small of her back.

“Please,” he said softly. “After all ye’ve done for me and for Murtagh, let me help ye.”

Realizing she probably wouldn’t make it to the kitchen under her own power, she nodded in agreement.

“Alright. But on the other side. I don’t want you to irritate your bad shoulder.”

“As ye say, Sassenach.”

Between the two of them, they stumbled down to the kitchen. True enough, the tea things were out and waiting, Murtagh sitting at the table.

“Ah, and so she wakes.”

“How’s your head? I’m so sorry I fell asleep. I was trying to stay awake to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m shocked ye stayed on yer feet as long as ye did, after-”

Jamie coughed loudly, interrupting his godfather.

“She needs some tea,” he said.

Claire looked up at him just in time to catch the glare he’d shot the other man. Still, Jamie helped her into a chair and fixed her tea. To her surprise, he put in a dash of cream and nothing else, exactly the way she preferred. 

“How did you know that… Right,” she said, shaking her head again. “Psychic.”

While she let the warm liquid infuse her with comfort and strength, she realized the two men were speaking in Gaelic. She didn’t know what they were saying, but it seemed heated and a maybe a little hostile.

Eventually, Murtagh turned to her and met her eyes.

“How do ye feel, lass?” Murtagh asked.

“Alright. I really don’t know why I passed out.”

“Ach,” Jamie said dismissively. “Dinna fash about it. Ye came and did work ye werena expecting.”

As she took a long drink of her tea, the cell phone in her pocket began buzzing. Setting the cup down, she pulled the phone out and saw Geillis’ was calling.

“I’m sorry, it’s my roommate. She’s probably worried, I should answer.”

Claire got up and stepped away for a moment.

“Geillis?”

“Claire! Where are you? I woke up and saw your note but you weren’t home. What the hell happened to you?!”

“I’m sorry Geillis. I’ll be home soon and I’ll explain everything then. Drink the water by your bed and take the aspirin.”

Geillis snorted.

“I have. This isn’t my first hangover. Come home soon. I’m worried.”

“I’ll be back soon.”

Ending the call, she slid the phone back into her pocket before looking back at the two Scotsmen, offering an apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry,” she started.

“Dinna fash,” Jamie said as he stood and cleared is throat. “You’ve got a life to return to.”

Claire blinked at his sudden change of accent. Once again, he’d adopted the false identity flawlessly.

“Feel free to come back any time,” he said, giving her a warm smile.

“Thank you. Um… Look, if you get into trouble again and need help, you can give me a call.”

Glancing around, she realized she didn’t have anything to write with. Jamie opened a drawer in the small cabinet and handed her a pen and pad of paper.

“Thank you. This is my cell. Give me a ring if you need anything. If that wound starts to get infected you need to go to the hospital.”

“Thank you,” Jamie said softy. “Would you like me to walk you home?”

Claire shook her head, trying to hide the wince it caused.

“No, I’m alright. Thank you.”

Jamie stood close to her, eyes searching hers.

“Are you sure? You nearly fell down the stairs earlier. I’d hate if something happened to you.”

Murtagh said something gruff, but Jamie ignored him.

“Quite sure. Thank you, Mr. Fraser.”

For a moment, he looked like he didn’t believe her. But then he bowed his head a little and smiled.

“Have a lovely day, Miss Beauchamp.”

Hearing her name confused her for a moment. She’d gotten used to hearing him call her Sassenach. After glancing at both men one last time, Claire nodded to herself and started the walk home.

***

“Do ye mind tellin’ me just what the hell that was? Claire doesna ken what she’s capable of! She needs to be aware of her gift!”

Jamie glared at his godfather.

“No. She doesna. No’ yet. And ye canna just spring that sort of information on someone!”

“She needs to know.”

“No.”

Murtagh glared back.

“It is my job to protect ye and keep ye alive as long as I can. From what ye told me of the visions, they’re getting worse. Like Brian’s did. Ye  _ need _ her. Like Brian needed Ellen.”

“I canna have her remain here out of an obligation to me. I…”

Two dark eyes narrowed at him.

“Ye care for the lass, then?”

Jamie began pacing, running his hands over his head.

“Of course I do! But…”

Turning, he met his godfather’s eye.

“Ye canna do a thing about it.”

“How could I no’ feel something for her? Ye saw how she was. Dove right in and saved our lives. And then the things I’ve seen…”

Jamie trailed off, swallowing hard.

“What have ye seen, lad? Ye’ve never said?”

“Her past. Our past. A past life? I dinna ken. But I’ve seen her, seen… I’ve felt her when she…”

Murtagh stood and put away the tea things.

“I think we need something a wee bit stronger than tea, lad.”

After pouring them each a small glass of whisky, Murtagh sat back in his seat.

“Start from the beginning, then. Tell me what ye’ve seen.”

Jamie exhaled, seeing not the whisky in his glass but the whisky colored eyes of his visions. 

“Her. God I’ve felt what it’s like to lie wi’ her. Seen what she looks like when she’s happy and laughing. I ken why she’s afraid of love, afraid of growing close to people. I ken why she’s chosen a predictable life.”

“Ye love her?”

“No!” Jamie paused. “Yes. I… I dinna ken.”

Murtagh nodded slowly.

“I see now, why ye didna want to tell her of her gift. It would mean she’s here to keep ye alive, no’ by her choice. She could still be wi’ her man.”

Jamie pinched his eyes closed.

“I… Sometimes it’s hard for me to ken what’s me and what’s the vision. It’s like… Sometimes I canna tell the difference between what I truly feel and what I feel through the vision.”

“So ye’ve had visions of her, no’ just a past life? Any of her future or just her past?”

“Past. I dinna want to ken her future. No’ if… if it’s wi’ someone else.”

Murtagh nodded thoughtfully, setting down his empty glass as he yawned.

“Aye. I understand ye now. But ye need her, mind. No’ just because of yer feelings. It’s her power alone that kept yer visions from getting any worse. If she hadna been there, there’s no way to ken how bad it might ha’ gotten. So, eventually, ye need to tell her who she is. Tell her  _ what _ she is.”

“Aye. I will. Just… No’ yet.”

***

Claire inserted her key into the door just as it pulled open. With a gasp, she leapt back and stared up at the man exiting.

“Sorry!” he blurted.

The man was tall, easily over six foot, with a bushy gray and white beard. He was unusual, if he was one of Geillis’ latest conquests. She usually went for younger more… athletic men. 

“It’s alright,” Claire answered as he rushed down the stairs.

Inside her flat, Claire approached Geillis, who looked content and a little smug.

“Who was that?”

“Oh him? I’m not sure what his full name is. Dougal… something.”

“You didn’t have him when you came home last night.”

Geillis giggled.

“No. I didn’t. He called some time and well… One thing lead to another and…”

One delicate brow ticked up, allowing Claire to use her imagination to fill in the rest.

“At least you have part of a name. More than most.”

“How about we talk about where  _ you’ve _ been all night.”

Her first instinct was to lie about where she’d been. She could say she’d gone to Frank’s, but they’d had no dinner plans. 

“I… Went back to that psychic.”

“You  **_did_ ** ?! Why the hell didn’t you tell me??”

“I just wanted to prove he was a fraud.”

Geillis’ mouth dropped open.

“And? Did you get another reading!?”

“I did. He said I’d fall in love and live happily ever after with a tall, dark-haired man.”

Her roommate’s eyes rolled.

“He did not.”

“He did. So, he’s a fraud. Like all the others.”

Pushing past Geillis, Claire headed for her room. If she kept the lies short and simple, they might just pass undetected. But she had to get away before she was discovered.

In her room, Claire stood in front of her dresser frowning. Something wasn’t quite right. The photographs on top were slightly out of place. Her jewelry box was on the wrong side.

“Geillis?”

A moment later, her roommate leaned on the doorframe.

“Yes?”

“My room… Why have things moved?”

“Oh, that. I tidied up a bit. You know. Vacuumed and such.”

Casting Geillis a disbelieving look, Claire snorted.

“Geillis Duncan, you don’t even know where the vacuum is. The only thing you know how to clean is the liquor cabinet.”

With a shrug, the other woman disappeared to her own room.

***

Closing the door behind her, Geillis locked it and pulled out her cell phone.

“What?” came the gruff voice on the other end.

“I was right. She went back.”

“And?”

“Claims he’s a fraud.”

_ Pause _ .

“Is she lying?”

“I think so.”

“Think?”

Geillis rolled her eyes.

“She’s easy to read when she’s looking at you.”

“Is it working?”

Picking up the clock radio on her nightstand, she fiddled with the stations until she heard a muffled crackle.

_ “Cleaning? Like hell. And in my room no less! She can’t possibly think I’m that gullible.” _

“It’s working.”

“Good. Make contact when you have information.”

The line went dead and Geillis put the phone down. Hopefully she would get useful information soon.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire's new feelings are confusing her.

Jamie tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position to sleep. Had it really only been one day? Having a brief flash that she’d come back to see him, hearing a knock on the door, opening it to find those thugs come to steal him away, and then... _ Claire. _

_ She closed the door behind her with a sigh. Her face was drawn and worried, like she had a million things running through her mind. She moved in front of the mirror and leaned against the counter, meeting her own eyes. _

_ “It’s time,” she said. _

_ At first, she looked sad. Whatever it was time for weighed on her heavily. And then her expression changed into something altogether different. She ran her hands through her hair and straightened up. _

_ “I have to tell him.” _

Jamie woke breathing hard, sitting up and wiping the cold sweat from his face. That was Claire. Claire Beauchamp. Not a woman who looked like her, from some distant past. But a Claire from the future. He swore quietly. Normally he’d have gotten out his dream journal and written it all down, but this was something he needed to speak about with Murtagh.

He stumbled down the stairs, replaying the scene in his mind until he found Murtagh and shook him awake. Ignoring the grumbling, Jamie explained the entire vision to his godfather in as much detail as he could. Murtagh’s countenance changed from one of annoyance to one of concern as he listened to the details of the vision. Both men were worried now.

“Who was ‘he’?”

“I dinna ken. Do ye think it could be…” Jamie was afraid to even say his name, as if it would conjure him.

Murtagh pinched the bridge of his nose.

“She didna believe ye when she came here, aye? Do ye really think her acting is that good?”

“If she’s working wi’ him, wouldn’t she have to be that good?”

Murtagh shook his head slowly.

“Nay, lad. I saw her eyes when she came here and she spoke true. I dinna think she’s working wi’ him.”

“Then what does it mean?”

“That’s no’ my job, lad. Ye need to gi’ it time. Go write it down like ye should have when ye woke. Remember what yer da said. It isna for ye to ken the reason for the vision, only to ken when to share it.”

Jamie nodded and ran a hand over his head.

“Ye dinna think he’s found me?”

“No,” his godfather said softly. “He doesna ken where ye are, Jamie. Go and get some rest if ye can. I’ll keep watch.”

***

Claire slept for the rest of the day after she’d come home from the Fraser’s. Most of her rest was dreamless, except for one moment that had been vivid.

_ She was outside herself, watching as she walked through her own flat. Her hair was a mess and she looked like she hadn’t slept in at least a day. When she made for the toilet, Claire wondered why she was dreaming about herself like this. _

_ But then she was watching herself in front of the mirror, like she sometimes did before a surgery. Meeting her own gaze, determined to be her best. _

_ “It’s time.” _

_ The look in her eyes was a little sad, but not full of regret. Like she was letting go of something, and she knew letting go always brought some amount of pain. But then she ran her hands through her hair and straightened up. That look of determination was as familiar as her own home. _

_ “I have to tell him.” _

_ Then one corner of her mouth curled up in a smile. _

Claire was jolted awake by her cell beeping at her. Glancing at it, she saw a text from Frank.

_ Remember we have a dinner party tonight. Please wear something sensible. And would you mind straightening your hair? It always looks so lovely on you that way. -F _

With a heavy sigh, she got up and went to shower. It would take some time with her brush and flat-iron to get her curls tamed. Curls were unruly and unpredictable - spontaneous. When he took her out to a faculty function for his university, he preferred things to be neat and tidy. A simple, modest dress, and hair that didn’t look like she’d stuck her fingers in an electrical outlet. 

Taking breaks whenever her arms got sore, she got herself ready for a night of boring conversation. One last glance in the mirror and she nodded to herself. She looked professional and put together, like Frank would be.

The dinner had soft music playing in the background, only loud enough to fill the silences. Claire sat down beside Frank and he dove straight into a conversation about some historical find. With nothing to really engage her, she let her mind wander. The dream she’d had bothered her. Usually when she had dreams like that, she didn’t see herself moving about. Thinking back, the only other time she’d experienced that had been…

_ Could it have been another one of those shared dreams? Like Jamie and I shared a few weeks ago? _

But what had it been ‘time’ for? Was it some vision of her future? Perhaps she should go see him again and ask that he read her future. Or maybe she should just ask if he’d had a similar dream or vision. But if he hadn’t, what would  _ that _ mean?   
  
"Claire?" Frank whispered. 

She blinked. 

"Claire, are you alright? You seem distracted."   
  
She sighed, giving him an apologetic look and weak smile.   
  
"I'm sorry. Yes. I am distracted. I was just thinking about... about one of my patients. Wondering how he's doing."

“So, Claire,” said an elegant woman. “Frank tells us you work at the hospital?”

Mustering up her formal smile, she nodded.

“I do. I’m a surgeon.”

“Oh my, that’s quite impressive!”

“Thank you.”

The man sitting beside her, presumably her husband, leaned in, interrupting the conversation.

“Say, Randall. Have you heard the rumors going about?”

“Which ones, Harvey? There’s dozens of rumors about all sorts of things.”

“The Scottish Revolution, of course! The White Rose, rising again.”

Frank laughed and took a sip of his scotch. 

“They say that every few years, Harvey. You should know by now it’s a hoax. Scotland isn’t going to fight for independence again, not after the ‘45.”

Claire had begun to tune out again, but Frank’s mention of the ‘45 caught her attention. The book on the shelf that lead to Jamie’s safe room had been about the ‘45.

Harvey waved a dismissive hand.

“No, no. There’s a man who seems determined. Says he’s got something so powerful that England herself will be brought to her knees.”

“A Scottish revolution? One man with a weapon that powerful? Someone would have said something by now if that was true,” Frank said.

“And besides,” entered a new voice. “What sort of weapon could bring England to her knees? And what man is this you think will bring on this so called ‘revolution’?”

Harvey leaned forward, pleased to have an interested audience for once. 

“They say he’s called Mackenzie, sometimes Mac. He’s a crafty man. Determined to find this thing he’s been searching for. I’ve heard one rumor that it’s a powerful bomb, that he’ll use to threaten England. But some say… He’s looking for a psychic.”

The table around her erupted into laughter, but Claire’s blood ran cold. Could this man be the one Jamie was hiding from?  She observed him out of the corner of her eye. He was a large man with broad shoulders and shoulder length brown hair. Overall, he didn't look like a Scottish psychic kidnapping mastermind. But then, she hadn’t even believe in psychics before  a few weeks ago. 

The party got up from the table, eager to enter the part of the night in which drinking and gossiping were involved. Claire didn't even notice everyone was leaving until Frank took her hand, looking at her with concern. So many thoughts raced through her mind that she couldn’t tell where one began and another ended.

"Should we go Claire?" Frank asked lowly. "You've been off tonight. We could go to my place and..." 

He shrugged, eyebrow raised in suggestion. Part of Claire wanted to go very badly. To feel safe and hide from everything that had happened - was going to happen. Claire shook her head. 

"No, you stay. I’m afraid I’m not feeling well. I think I’ll go home.”

Frank squeezed her hand gently.

“Are you sure, darling? I can take you home right now if you’re unwell.”

“Yes, I’m quite sure. I’ll just call for a cab and go to sleep.”

“Call or text me when you get home, then?”

Nodding, she accepted his kiss on her cheek and watched him join his colleagues. Harvey was lingering on the edge of the group and Claire waited before leaving. She didn’t think he suspected her of having a connection to Jamie and she had no way of knowing if it was Jamie the man had been talking about. But both Scotsmen had put their faith in her and she wouldn’t let them down.

After calling a cab, she gathered her coat and went outside to wait. Harvey had been facing away from the door and deeply involved in conversation when she’d slipped out. Inside the cab, she took a breath and tried to shake the feeling that someone was watching her.

“Where to, miss?”

For a moment, she considered giving Jamie’s address, but decided against it. She had work in the morning and she really was tired. Besides, if someone  _ was _ watching her, the last thing she wanted was to give away where he was. So she gave the driver her home address and sat back in the seat as he pulled away.

***

Claire went to work as usual, though her mind kept wandering to Jamie.  _ Was he alright? Had his wound become infected? Were the stitches holding? _ She told herself that she needed to get back to her regular life, that whatever was going on with Jamie Fraser was none of her business. 

But she couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed to see him. No matter what she told herself, or how busy she kept herself at work, she felt a pull toward his home. Somehow she knew that he wouldn’t go to the hospital for anything, not even an infected puncture. 

“He’s my patient,” she told herself three days later. “It would be a violation of my oath to not check on him.”

That was what she told herself as she walked toward his home after her shift had ended. She was simply being a good doctor. Over and over she repeated her reasons to herself, forgetting she was mumbling out loud when she knocked on the door. Jamie himself opened it, offering her a kind smile. He definitely wasn't surprised she was there, damn him.    
  
“I’m a good doctor!” she blurted.   
  
Jamie blinked, then nodded, the corner of his mouth turning up again.    
  
“I’m sure you are, Miss Beauchamp. You certainly saved my life. My godfather’s as well.”   
  
Claire exhaled, feeling like some weight had been taken off of her. He was watching her, as if he expected something. Claire nervously fiddled with her hands, feeling suddenly self conscious for another reason.    
  
“How are your injuries healing up?”

He stepped back from the door and waved her inside.

“About as well as can be expected, I think.”

As she’d expected, he took her back to the same room in which he’d read her tea leaves. It was strangely familiar now, somehow comfortable.

“Lift up your shirt, then. I need to check for infection.”

“It’s not infected, Miss Beauchamp. I promise.”

“Who’s the one with the medical degree?”

He sat down in a chair and gingerly lifted his shirt. She breathed a sigh of relief when she noted there was, in fact, no infection. The stitches held well and everything looked healthy. Her fingers lingered on his warm skin, unable to pull away. Images flashed through her mind of that erotic dream she’d had. Jamie’s skin was as warm as the dream man had been, though much more immediate. She wondered absently if he was as soft and warm everywhere.

“My godfather has been checking on it,” he said quietly, his voice gone husky.

She could feel the way his chest rumbled when he spoke. Forcing her hand away, heat rushed up her neck and she looked pointedly down at the floor. What the hell was wrong with her? She glanced around hastily, seeing that the door was behind her. Backing toward it, she kept her eyes off him.

“Wait,” he said, turning to catch her before she left.

As he did, he winced and clutched at his side. She stopped and moved toward him.

“Have you been taking any painkillers?”

Claire latched onto the new topic of conversation, eager to pull her mind away from where it had been going. 

“No,” he shook his head. “I don’t like to take medication.”

“Why not? I can’t imagine that was comfortable.”

He sat down slowly and shook his head.

“It hasn’t been. But something strong enough to take the pain away dulls my Sight. It’s more uncomfortable to have that than to deal with the pain.”

“That makes sense, I suppose.”

The room fell into an awkward silence. 

“I’ve, um… I’ve been worried that one of the stitches hadn’t held or that infection had set in. I’m pleased to see it hasn’t.”

“So you said.”

Settling into her chair, she began wringing her hands together.

“Have you seen my future,” she blurted, again, daring to glance up at him.

His brows lifted a little, but not in surprise, she thought.

“I haven’t specifically looked.”

That wasn’t an answer to her question but an evasion.

“Did you have another vision of me a few nights ago?”

His eyes grew wide and he leaned forward a little.

“Why? Did you have a dream as well?”

She nodded.

“Yes.”

“I don’t know why this is happening,” he said slowly. “Even my godfather doesn’t know why.”

“How is he, by the way? His head?”

Jamie laughed, grimacing again. 

“His head is nearly as thick as mine.”

Her hands wouldn’t sit still in her lap and she found herself unable to meet his eyes again.

"Why is it... that you weren't there? In the other one... you were so..."   
  
Jesus H. Christ she was blushing again. She glanced up to find Jamie's ears had gone faintly pink.

“I, uh…” his voice cracked. “I’m no’ sure. The other was… Well, it… They…”

She felt as embarrassed as she had when her uncle had given her “The Talk”. Her eyes darted around the room, trying to find a safe place to land. Never, in all her life, had she felt this out of sorts. 

Jamie licked his lips and Claire felt like time slowed. She remembered feeling lips on her neck, her heart racing. No, wait. Her heart was racing  _ now _ . 

“Bloody Christ,” she muttered under her breath.

“Miss Beauchamp? Is everything alright?”

“Ah…” she met his eyes for a moment and remembered the piercing blue from her shared vision. “I’m afraid I forgot I had plans this evening. I have to get going. It’s, um… It’s been a pleasure seeing you again.” Her face flushed again. “If you need anything, you’ve got my number still.”

Lurching to her feet, she began to back out of the room again.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Miss Beauchamp?”

“God, please just call me Claire. Um. Yes, I’m quite alright. I’ll see you-” she grunted when she hit the doorframe. “Goodbye, Mr. Fraser.”

Turning, she walked as quickly as she could out of the building. The air outside washed over her and she stopped for a moment to catch her breath.

“Get a hold of yourself, Beauchamp,” she scolded herself. “Whatever the hell is going on needs to stop.”

After a few more cleansing breaths, she started for her own flat. What was it about the redheaded Scotsman that made her feel like this?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie's visions get more intense.

Murtagh read his morning paper, sipping his tea. Jamie came down and sat at the table beside him. 

“I need to Look,” Jamie said quietly.

He’d been waiting for this realization. If they’d been found, Jamie needed to See the immediate future to know how much time they’d have. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Aye, lad. Ye do. We need to ken if he’s found us.”

Jamie took a deep breath.

“No’ now! Ye wee idiot! Ye canna Look on an empty stomach and ye ken that well. Or have ye forgotten what happened the last time ye did it?”

Jamie’s eyes rolled.

“I’ve no’ forgotten.”

“Then eat up. And I’ll keep watch while ye Look. Dinna stay too long. Claire's no’ here to heal ye.”

Nodding, his godson settled down and began eating his breakfast. It might be time to move again, even if they hadn’t been found. They’d been here too long, gotten a reputation.

“Alright,” Jamie said a few minutes later. “I’m going to See.”

“What is yer aim? To See him now? Or future?”

“I want to See as close to now as may be, to see if he kens where we are.”

Murtagh sat forward and faced his godson. Each time Jamie did this, it made him nervous. Now that they’d found the healer, maybe it wouldn’t worry him so much.

***

Jamie closed his eyes and focused on the name and the face. Calling on that something extra he’d had most of his life, the world around him swirled and faded away. 

_ A door closed and  _ **_he_ ** _ walked forward.  _ **_He_ ** _ took a deep breath and turned to face the mirror.  _ **_He_ ** _ ran a hand over his bald head before pulling out a cell phone and tapping away for a moment. _

Jamie pulled himself out of the vision with a gasp. Murtagh was watching him carefully.

“Are ye alright lad?”

“Aye. I’m alright. Christ, Murtagh. He’s here.”

His godfather began to get to his feet but Jamie shook his head.

“No’  _ here _ . But in the city.”

“Before ye gi’ me a heart attack, tell me what ye just saw.”

Focusing on the memory of the vision, he recalled it to Murtagh.

“And ye recognize the mirror, ye say?”

“Aye. It was the same one when I saw wi’ Claire. If he’s no’ found us, he’s found her.”

“He couldna ken that she’s the healer ye need. We didna ken it until she healed ye.”

Jamie began drumming his fingers against his thigh. Whatever unknown feelings he’d begun to develop for Claire, he couldn’t let her get hurt because of him.

“Aye, aye. But what if he does ken what she is?”

“Then we tell her and bring her here. Move again, but bring her wi’ us.”

Jamie made a frustrated noise.

“No. We’ve talked about this already, Murtagh. I’m no’ telling her what she is. And I’ll no’ tear her from the life she’s built here.”

Murtagh held up his hands in surrender.

“Alright, I’ll no’ argue wi’ ye again. But ye might change yer mind when the migraines get worse.”

Jamie sighed as he got up from the table. On some level, he knew Murtagh was right, but what about Claire? Just the thought of leaving her made his chest tight. Not that she'd go willingly, the brave wee thing…    
  
"Are ye alright lad?" Murtagh asked, watching Jamie closely. "Ye look a bit pained."   
  
Jamie swallowed but nodded.    
  
"Aye, I'm fine. Perhaps… perhaps we should call Jenny. Let her know we may have to relocate again."   
  
His godfather gave him a narrow eye before pulling out his cell phone, leaving the room the make the call and start preparations. Jamie exhaled. He was pained, but it wasn't his head that was hurting now.

***

Claire sat on the couch with a blanket around her shoulders as she sipped her wine. The volume on the movie she watched was up a little louder than usual, but Geillis had had a ‘friend’ over when she’d gotten home. 

A knock at the door forced her to pause the movie and get up to answer it. Frank looked at her with a worried expression. She waved him inside and they sat down on the couch beside each other.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” she said self consciously, pushing her hair back. 

“I know, I was just worried. You haven’t seemed yourself lately and I wanted to check on you. Are you coming down with something?”

“I’m not coming down with anything. I’m alright, Frank. You didn’t need to come over.”

He reached forward and cupped her cheek in one hand. For a moment, he searched her eyes. Then a rhythmic ‘thump-thump-thump’ picked up from Geillis’ room again and Claire turned the movie back on. 

Claire sighed and gave Frank a smile. 

“I think I’m just going to go to bed. You don’t need to worry, Frank, I’m just tired. That’s all.”

“It’s no wonder,” he said, giving Geillis’ room a dirty look. “With all that racket. Does she ever spend a night alone?”

Claire snorted.

“Rarely. But that’s usually if she’s found a ‘friend’ at a bar beforehand.”

When she turned off the movie and got up, Frank joined her. They walked to her room and she closed the door. It was much quieter with the door shut.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” he asked quietly.

“You’ve got an early class in the morning. Go on home. I’ll call you later.”

With her sitting on the bed, he nodded and leaned down to kiss her sweetly. Then he left, closing her bedroom door behind him. After changing, Claire turned on her white noise machine and got into bed. But no matter what she did, she couldn’t get comfortable. Constantly tossing and turning, her lips burned in memory. The thing that was beginning to bother her, however, was that the memory wasn’t of Frank’s kiss. It was the kiss the lovers had shared in that strange shared vision. The passion and the heat between them was undeniable and something she’d never felt before.

She knew it was wrong to compare that kiss to Frank’s, but she couldn’t help herself. It wasn’t as though Frank was a  _ bad _ kisser, just not the same intensity as the lovers had had. She recalled the night she’d had that vision, how her body had responded. Not one night with Frank had felt like that. Perhaps that passion they shared had grown from their deep love, and love like that was something Claire refused to share with anyone ever again. Everyone she’d ever loved had been torn away from her. 

Her mind wandered to the last time she’d seen Jamie. That stray thought about kissing him, how she felt around him… It confused her. Before she could get herself tangled in her sheets, she got up to make herself a cup of tea. She needed to calm herself down so she could get some actual rest.

No more noise came from Geillis’ room. Maybe she’d finally passed out. No doubt she’d been quite drunk when she’d come home with her ‘friend’. As she got out her favorite tea, she heard a door open. Turning around, she thought it might be Geillis. Instead, it was someone she’d seen before.

“You must be Claire,” he said, his words tinged with a hint of an accent.”

“I am. I’m afraid I can’t recall where we’ve met before.”

“Here, actually,” he said with a kind smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

His shirt was partially buttoned and he wore jeans, but no shoes or socks.

“Right, you were here with Geillis before.”

“I was. She’s a very unique woman.”

Claire snorted and started to turn back to her tea preparations. 

“That’s one way to put it.”

“But you,” his voice came closer.

Claire jumped when a hand rested on her shoulder. Stepping to one side, she turned and looked up at him, not liking the gleam in his eye.

“I’m afraid I’m with someone,” she paused, searching her memory for a name. “Dougal?”

“I find you a most singular woman, Claire. I’m here if you should find yourself wishing to sample…” he reached out to touch her face as Frank had. “Other pleasures.”

Pushing him away, Claire grabbed a coat and her keys before slipping into a pair of shoes near the door. Without looking back, she left the flat, eager to put distance between herself and Dougal. 

Shortly after she’d left, she realized she was driving to Jamie’s home as if she was being pulled there. Had he had another vision? One that was giving him a migraine? She worried about those, with their increasing regularity and intensity. If they got too much worse, it could cause some serious damage.

When she knocked, she half expected Jamie to answer, smiling as if she’d arrived for an appointment. But it was Murtagh who opened the door.

“Miss Beauchamp,” he said, nodding his head. “What is it I can do for ye?”

“Is Jamie alright?”

“Aye. He’s up sleeping at the moment. Is something the matter?”

She hesitated.

“Ah… No. No I don’t think so. I just thought he’d… Never mind. I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

“Claire,” he said as she made to leave. “I think we should have a talk.”

The serious look on his face had her walking into the flat after him. She followed him back to the kitchen and sat in the chair he pulled out for her.

“What is it we need to talk about? Is Jamie alright?”

“Aye, he is for now. But I think ye should ken just what it is that’s going on here.”

Claire relaxed into the chair, sensing this conversation would be a long one.

“Alright. I’m listening.”

“I ken ye keep coming back here, that ye care about the lad. Ye agreed to keep his secret, but I think ye should ken exactly what that means. So what I’m about to tell ye is something I’ll trust ye no’ to share wi’ anyone. Ever. No’ yer man, or roommate.”

“I promise.”

Murtagh took a deep breath.

“The Fraser family has had a long and colorful history. Most men in the family have the Sight, like Jamie has, but no’ all. I’m a Fraser as well, but I dinna have the Gift. Jamie had an elder brother, William, and still has a sister, Jenny.”

“Had?”

Murtagh nodded, looking down at his clenched hands.

“Aye. Before I get to Willie, I need to tell ye about his mam and da, Ellen and Brian. They were a True match, meant to be. Anyone could see it when they were together. Brian was a Seer, like Jamie is, and his Gift got stronger. We kent he needed more help than hospital could offer. Ellen had her own Gift, something that only worked on Brian. It was she who kept his visions from killing him for many years.”

“What happened to her?”

It was a long time before he answered.

“Brian was out helping a family he kent wi’ something. The children were out somewhere, I’m no’ sure. Ye have to understand, Claire, the Fraser Gift is a strong thing, wanted by many people. Governments across the globe would love to have the power of a psychic to See what will come to pass. One such government found Ellen at home. She wouldna tell them where Brian was. They’d been prepared for something like this, kent it would come eventually. Ellen was… She was a brave lass, strong and fierce. Her family meant everything to her, and keeping Brian safe was her first priority. Willie and Jamie had started to show signs of having the Gift as well.”

Claire shifted in her seat, knowing she did not want to hear what happened to Ellen Fraser.

“Ellen fought them, determined to keep them from Brian and her sons. One foolish boy was afraid of her, having heard rumors she could stop a heart wi’ a look. It wasna true, her Gift only helped Brian, but he didna ken that. His weapon discharged and Ellen fell. I arrived at Lallybroch shortly after the military had fled. Having no Gift myself, I did all I could to keep the family safe. Maybe if I’d been there when…”

Lines of guilt crossed his face and he turned away from her then. Claire waited patiently, giving him the time he needed to compose himself.

“You found her?”

“Aye,” his voice cracked. “She had such life in her, Ellen did. Jamie got his hair from her, ye ken, and some of her face. But when I saw her… I kent she’d gone and wouldna come back. Brian came home before the children did, thank God. He wept over her body and I cleaned myself before going out to meet the children. They didna need their last sight of their mam to be her body on the floor in their sitting room. So we buried Ellen in the family plot and went about our lives. I stayed at the house then because I kent it was partly my fault Ellen had died. Brian started telling me about what would be happening for the boys in the coming years.”

Claire frowned.

“Why? If he had the Gift as well, why wouldn’t he teach them himself?”

“Weel, the visions get stronger, ye ken. They cause migraines which get worse as the power increases. He and I both kent his time was growing short, wi’out Ellen there to help him. So he prepared me and charged me wi’ their welfare, naming me their godfather. Brian died three months after Ellen. I say he lasted so long because he was a stubborn bastard.”

Wiping tears from her cheeks, she thought about how kind Jamie was. She’d lost her own parents at a young age in a car crash, but they hadn’t been stolen like Jamie’s had. Her heart ached for him.

“How old was he?”

“Ten. Willie was just sixteen, Jenny was thirteen. She’d just started to get her Gift - she can hear thoughts. Thirteen is when the Gift usually comes, but Jamie was only eleven when he got his. It was strong in a way nobody was prepared for. Willie kent Jamie would need someone to help him, like Ellen helped Brian. So he Looked as often as he could, trying to find whoever it might be.”

“Willie died too?”

Murtagh nodded slowly.

“Aye. Same as Brian, though much too soon. Jamie Saw it, his first true vision. He’d seen bits and pieces here and there, but nothing ever enough to be a real vision. But he Saw how and when Willie would die. Since then, he hasna looked too far into someone’s future. Willie did his best to find a way to protect Jamie, but… He couldna.”

“How old was Willie when he died?”

“Twenty-three. Jamie took it hard, as ye can imagine. He’d kent when Willie would die for some time, but he couldna do a thing to stop it. He carried that guilt for a long time. Still does, sometimes. Jamie is now the only Fraser Seer left, ye ken.”

Everything Murtagh had just told her weighed heavy on her heart. Jamie had lost so much in his life, grown up without his parents and carried the guilt of his brother’s death.

“Jenny’s still alive?”

Now Murtagh smiled.

“Aye. Verra much alive. Marriet to a fine young man who she canna read like the rest of us. He’s like a shield for her, which she needs. Helps her stay grounded. But we havena seen her in nearly two years. I keep in contact wi’ her when I can. Wi’ Jamie’s Gift, it isna safe for him to stay home, much as he’d like to. We have to keep moving to stay safe.”

Slowly, Claire shook her head back and forth. 

“I can’t imagine how hard this is for him. His only family and he can’t see her. Growing up without his parents, losing his brother…”

“From time to time, he feels himself a coward for running, but he couldna stand the thought of something happening to Jenny like it did Ellen. So I stay wi’ him to keep him safe. I help him in what small ways I might, teaching him the things Brian told me.”

“So why are you telling me all this? I already promised I wouldn’t share anything with anyone. I’ve been lying to my roommate for weeks now.”

Murtagh nodded and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Aye, I ken ye are and I canna tell ye how much I appreciate it. Yer helping keep Jamie safe. But if ye intend to be his friend, ye need to ken the danger. It isna fair to ye to keep ye in the dark about all this.”

“Thank you for trusting me with this, Murtagh. It can’t have been easy to share all of that. How is he? How are his injuries?”

“Quite well. The injuries are healing up verra well. Ye do fine work.”

The floorboards above them creaked and Murtagh rolled his eyes.

“The wee fool is supposed to be sleeping.”

“I’ll go check on him. You should get some rest too. If you’re to be the one protecting him, you need your energy.”

“Actually, if ye wouldna mind staying here a bit? I need to get a few things to stock up on, but Jamie couldna leave earlier. If ye wouldna mind staying here until I got back?”

“Sure.”

Murtaugh gave her a final nod and disappeared into a back room. Carefully, she climbed the stairs to Jamie’s room and found the door slightly open. There was a large lump on the bed, beneath a beautiful tartan quilt, that she assumed to be Jamie. He looked heartbreakingly young as he slept, ruddy hair curling over his forehead and lips slightly parted. She could see the young boy he had once been. Compelled by tenderness, she reached out and brushed his hair back. The sweetest smile curled his lips up for a brief moment before his eyes shot open.

“CLAIRE!”

She jumped back from him, startled as his wide eyes rolled around the room, unseeing. He thrashed, limbs tangling with his blanket.    
  
“Jamie?"   
  
"Claire… God no…”   
  
"Jamie," she said loudly, heart breaking at his tone of voice. "Jamie, I’m right here. Are you alright?”   
  
He eyes snapped to hers, finally seeing her, and his mouth began moving, but no sound came out. She moved back to his side, worried. He must have had another vision. Damn Murtagh for leaving!   
  
“Claire! No, ye canna- AAHH!”   
  
His eyes lost focus again and he grabbed at his hair, blood beginning to run freely from his nose.    
  
"Jesus H. Christ!" she gasped, reaching for the discarded bath towel in the hamper and pressing it to his nose as best she could. 

He thrashed again, groaning and whimpering. Claire stood for a moment, afraid of the choice before her. She had no training to deal with whatever was happening to Jamie, but taking him to the hospital would be dangerous. Given everything Murtagh had just told her, she thought it might be a bad idea. Then, his eyes rolled back and he fell back onto his bed.    
  
"Jamie," she said urgently, shaking his shoulders. "Jamie wake up!"    
  
Jamie didn't move. Blood still poured from his nose, staining his sheets crimson.    
  
"Don't you dare, James Fraser!" she demanded, frantically grabbing her phone and calling for an ambulance. 

She gave as much information as she could, realizing how little she still knew about him. With Murtagh gone, Claire climbed into the ambulance, trying not to bark orders at the EMT's. She touched Jamie's shoulder, needing to feel close to him, and sudden disjointed images flashed through her mind. Herself. And blood. So much blood. Fear gripped her, and she had to focus on controlling her ragged breathing.

“Oh Jamie,” she said in a quiet whisper.

His nose had stopped bleeding, thankfully, but his entire face was red with pain. Impulsively, she reached out and put a hand against his face. After a moment, he seemed to relax a little. His heart rate dropped to a more normal rhythm and he seemed to breathe easier. 

After Jamie was checked in and settled in his own bed, Claire felt her eyes drooping. Her hands wrung together as Jamie slept. She kept wiping the tears from her face, worrying over the man before her. Had she done the right thing?

When his eyes opened, she sat up. 

“Jamie,” she said, trying to grab his attention. “Jamie it’s alright.”

“Wh-where am I?”

“You’re in hospital. I didn’t know what else to do. I-”

“No!”

He began to thrash in the bed until she grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her.

“I’m not going to leave you alone,” she said quietly. “Relax, Jamie. Breathe in slowly, that’s it.”

Their eyes met and he began to calm until his breathing matched hers.

“I shouldna- shouldn’t be here.”

"I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. You were bleeding and you passed out.”   
  
He started to speak again, but stopped and exhaled instead. Claire was glad to see his eyes were clear, though his skin was still pale.    
  
"Do… do you want me to go?" she asked timidly. "I can go back and find Murt-"   
  
"No!" he exclaimed suddenly, grabbing weakly for her hand. "No," he said again, softly. 

Claire interlaced her fingers with his, shocked to feel the warmth of him. His hands were strong and slightly callused. She had no problem imagining him working on his family estate.    
  
“You look tired, Claire.”   
  
She looked up from their clasped hands and saw him worriedly watching her. She sniffed out a laugh.    
  
"If that isn't the pot calling the kettle black I don't know what is," she said dryly.

He gave a light chuckle.

“Please,” he said, suddenly sober. “Don’t go.”

An unfamiliar desire urged her onto the bed beside him. He shifted, making a little more room, and she kept hold of his hand. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Jamie.”

He nodded slowly, eyes drifting closed again. When his mouth fell a little open, she knew he was truly asleep. She wasn’t far behind him.

***

A man stood in the corridor, just out of sight of the pair on the bed. Putting the cell phone to his ear, he waited for the call connect.

“Well?” came the voice on the other end.

“I found him.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the trip to the hospital. Jamie comes to a decision.

Jamie woke slowly, his head fuzzy after the vision. He shuddered at the thought of what that vision had been. No. He would not dwell on it, not now. Not ever. Something squirmed in his bed and he looked down to see Claire curled up beside him. She’d rested her head on his chest and his arm was around her, like she fit there.

She would die because of him.

She could not stay with him, could not be his friend or anything more. Not if he wanted to avoid that thing he’d seen. A frantic voice, yelling Scottish curses, drew Jamie’s attention. Claire stirred and sat up.

“Hey,” she said in a soft, kind voice. “How’s your head feeling?”

“Better, thank you,” he answered, trying to figure out how to pull his arm back without seeming rude.

He didn’t  _ want _ to take his arm back, he liked how she felt against him. But he couldn’t let himself feel that, not when it put her life in danger.

“JAMES ALEXANDER MALCOLM MACKENZIE FRASER!” Murtagh blurted, storming to the foot of the bed. “What in the bloody hell did ye think ye were doing, eh? Coming to the bloody hospital?! Have ye lost yer mind?”

"No, I haven't,” Jamie said testily, wincing at the loud voice. “But if you want me to lose my hearing you're doing a fine job."

Claire slid carefully off the bed and righted her clothes, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Murtagh. I’m afraid this is my fault. I went to check on him and he…” she dropped her voice, looking around her. “Got a migraine. And a nosebleed. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Murtagh’s chest was still heaving, but he lowered his voice.

“Ye should have called me,” he said harshly. “We need to get him home. Now.”

Jamie signed the papers allowing his release and they all got into Murtagh’s car. He closed his eyes, avoiding Claire's concerned glances.

“I’ll drop ye off at home, Claire,” Murtagh said. “And I’ll make sure Jamie’s alright.”

Taking directions from her, they arrived at her flat shortly. She hesitated, but wished them well and disappeared into her building. 

“And will ye tell me,” Murtagh started as soon as she was out of sight.

“No. I willna,” Jamie hissed back.

On the ride over, Jamie had pretended his head still ached. It was the only thing he could do to avoid looking at her.

“I’m no’ askin’ about being in hospital. I’m askin’ why she was in yer bed.”

Jamie’s breath caught as they pulled away. How could he explain what he Saw? The look in Claire’s eyes as her life’s blood left her. Jame exhaled, resting the back of his head against the seat rest again. If anyone would understand what he felt after Seeing that, it would be his godfather.

"Because I was scairt. I’ve never had pain like that and she was there and frightened and.." he stopped, swallowing. "Did… Did Da ever bleed?”

Murtagh’s hands tightened on the wheel. 

“Aye,” he finally said. “No’ verra often, mind. But he did. Yer mam helped wi’ it a few times.”

“So it’s no’ a sign that… That they’re gettin’ worse?”

“That’s no’ a sign, no. The fact that ye had to be put in hospital because of the migraine…”

Jamie took a long breath.

“We need to relocate again. Send word to Jenny.”

“Aye,” Murtagh nodded slowly. “It’ll take a day or two for me to get everything set up. While I do that, ye canna leave the flat. No’ for anything. And Claire needs to ken what’s happening.”

“No,” Jamie said sadly. “No I’ll need to leave once. Claire willna be coming wi’ us.”

The car had come to a stop and Jamie hadn’t noticed. Murtagh turned to him.

“I’ll no’ let ye torture yerself because ye willna tell the woman what she is!”

“It’s my choice, Murtagh. My mind’s made up. Just… find us somewhere safe and we’ll make do, aye?”

Inside, Murtagh set about making phone calls and Jamie went upstairs to pack up his own things. They’d made this move so many times they’d gotten used to it. His entire room, all of the material possessions that meant something to him, could be packed and ready for transport in an hour.

Sitting on his bed, he stared down at his hand as he pressed it against the rust colored stain on his sheets. Flashes of his vision came back to him and he remembered what his hands had looked like covered in blood. Claire’s blood. 

She was a brave woman, and strong too. If he told her he was moving and they’d not see each other again, it wouldn’t be enough. She’d be determined to find him again and he was sure she’d be successful. No, he had to sever this tie permanently.

Leaving his cell phone on his bed so he wouldn’t call her, he began packing up the few books he kept in his room. One was a book his father had left for him, one was a favorite classic he read from time to time when the visions kept him up at night. The last was a family heirloom, a book that was, according to legend, the story of how the Fraser clan got its Gifts. 

If Murtagh stuck to his habits, they’d have a temporary place for a short time while a panic room was being installed in a new place. This flat would sell with most of the furniture in it and wherever they moved would be furnished already. The last time Jamie could remember choosing something for his own room had been back at Lallybroch, before he’d lost everything.

With most of his things packed up, he began combing the flat for other things they’d need to take with them. Absently he wondered how Jenny was. Ian was a good match for her, helped keep her sane. Had they had their first child yet? For all Jamie knew, they were onto their second already. He smiled to himself as he boxed up the books all over the flat. Jenny would be a good mam.

Murtagh got everything set up and joined Jamie in the packing. By the time they sat down for a small dinner, the whole flat was ready to move.

“Ye said ye’d need to leave just once,” Murtagh said, sitting back in his chair.

“Aye. I… I need to speak wi’ Claire.”

“If yer no’ gonna tell her what she is, what the hell will ye tell her?”

Jamie’s fingers drummed on his thigh.

“That’s no’ your concern. I’ll tell her what I need to and then we’ll leave, aye?”

“Aye. I do.”

“Good.”

Jamie stood, prepared to head up to his room and try to sleep.

“Thank you, Murtagh,” he said, pausing in the doorway. “For constantly uprooting yer life for me.”

Murtagh nodded at him.

“If I could take some of the burden of this Gift from ye, I would. But I canna, so I keep ye as safe as I can.”

“I ken, Murtagh.”

***

Claire picked up her phone and put it down a dozen times, pacing her room and fidgeting. Finally she lay herself down and tried to force herself to sleep. Right, like that would ever work. She rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling.

Why had she climbed into bed with another man? More than that, why had it felt so right? She huffed, rolling over again and stared at the cell phone on the table. Opening yourself to someone, letting them see that bit of you no one else saw, left you open to misery. Damn Geillis Duncan and this path she'd set her on! The idea of True Love terrified her, but was a comfortable, uneventful life any better than that, when there could be more?

Did she want more?

No matter how many nights she’d spent with Frank, she’d never felt as wholly content as she had with Jamie. They fit together, like pieces of a puzzle; mind, body, and… something else? Was that the feeling other couples had?

She nearly fell out of her bed when her phone began to buzz. Looking down at it, she saw it was Jamie. A small smile came to her lips when she answered.

“How’s the head?”

“It’s fine. Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Not in the afternoon, why?”

Claire sat up.

“I have a few things that I need to tell you, but it should be in person. Would you be able to meet me if I texted you the location?”

“Of course. What time?”

“Give me a ring when you’re free.”

"Will…” she hesitated. "Will Murtagh be there?"   
  
"No. I wanted to speak with you alone."   
  
Claire's stomach turned over.

“Oh, um, alright. Try and get some rest, okay?”

The line was quiet.

“Thank you, Sa- Claire.”

Setting her phone down on the table beside her bed, Claire lay down once more. Jamie’s voice had sounded wrong, no trace of his usual warmth. He’d almost sounded mechanical, and it worried her. Perhaps he could explain why when she met up with him the following afternoon.

_ This place was unfamiliar. The darkness surrounded her, adding to her fear. She almost couldn’t breathe. What if this didn’t work? It had to, this had to work. It was Jamie. Her Jamie. _

The vision seemed to skip.

_ “I said I would, didn’t I?” she hissed, turning to face the speaker. _

_ Eyes, which felt vaguely familiar, narrowed at her. _

_ “We’re risking our necks for this. You  _ **_will_ ** _ hold up your end of the bargain.” _

_ Gritting her teeth, she nodded. Dougal waved a hand and she watched as the plan was set in motion. _

_ “Just come back to me, Jamie,” she breathed as the chaos began. _

***

Jamie hung up his phone and stared at it for a moment. He could hear Murtagh puttering about, getting things ready to move. After changing the sheets on his bed, he crawled into it and closed his eyes. Tomorrow would be the hardest day of his life.

_ “Tell me!” _

_ “N-n-no!” _

_ “If you just Look, just See what’s coming, all this will stop.” _

_ Something warm and wet was running down his face, down his back, down his legs. Was he bleeding? The pain suggested he was bleeding from several wounds. _

_ “I will not do as you ask,” he muttered, spitting blood. _

_ “You’ve been hiding long enough, Mr. Fraser. You’re the last of your kind. And we will learn who you care about.” _

_ “Your threats will not make me Look.” _

_ White hot pain shot through him and his body shook. A voice was screaming Gaelic curses, echoing around the small room. Was that his voice? _

_ “We know where your sister is. With her family. Just tell us what you See, what we need to know, and you’ll be just fine. She’ll go on living her life never knowing we exist. _

Hands on his shoulders woke him up. His vision was filled with Murtagh’s harried and worried face. Before he could say anything, he clutched at his head, screaming. The pain was the worst he’d ever felt, causing black spots in his sight. 

“Jamie, breathe, lad. In and out, slow. Aye, that’s it. I ken it hurts, but ye’re doing alright.”

Half an hour later, Jamie was finally able to see straight. Murtagh had his thumbs pressed against Jamie’s temples, trying to help relieve the pain. 

“He’ll get me,” Jamie breathed.

“No, lad. He’ll no’ get ye.”

“Aye, Murtagh. I’ve Seen it. He’ll find me. I dinna ken how, but…”

Murtagh swore.

“Tomorrow. I need to get ye out o’ here tomorrow.”

“I have to meet wi’ Claire first.”

Jamie saw his godfather glance at the phone beside his bed.

“If ye’ve got that migraine back, perhaps I should call her o’er.”

“No. Dinna call Claire. I’ll see her tomorrow and send her away. Then I’ll go wherever ye need to put me.”

Murtagh headed out of Jamie’s room, muttering something about ‘stubborn as rocks’ as he went down the stairs. Jamie rolled over, wincing as his head pounded with every beat of his heart, feeling hot and clammy all at once. Unable to sleep, he stared at the now empty book case. It was a long time until morning.

***

Near 2 in the afternoon, Claire slowed as the blinking dot on her GPS neared the turn off. Parking her car in the small lot, got out and looked around, taking in the emerald Scottish landscape.

“Thank you for coming,” Jamie said, pushing himself off the car he’d been leaning against.

“You asked me to, and it sounded serious. Are you alright? Your head?”

“Yes, thank you. Would you like to come with me?”

As they started for the trail, she looked him over. Dark circles under his eyes told her that he hadn’t been sleeping well. After the ordeal he’d had, she didn’t blame him. But it felt like there was more weighing on his shoulders than his sudden migraine and severe nose bleed. Memory of the vision flashes she’d had in the ambulance sent a shiver down her spine.

“Jamie,” she said, starting to make a grab for his arm to stop him, only to have him sidestep out of her reach. “What’s wrong? You’re worrying me.”

He gave her a polite smile and nodded at the trail.

“I’ll tell you along the way. Harder to overhear if we keep moving.”

She looked pointedly around them, sighed and followed his long stride. They were quiet for a few minutes, until he seemed to gather his thoughts.

“This is Craigh Na Dun, sometimes called the Faerie Hill. I’m not sure what Murtagh’s told you about the Fraser history but, according to the legends, this is where it started.”

“Really? This is where the Fraser Gifts began?”

Jamie nodded, but fell silent again. It wasn’t until they crested the hill and looked at the circle of standing stones that he spoke up again. Her thoughts from the night before came back to her then, how she’d been instinctively comfortable with Jamie. Perhaps Jamie wasn’t the only one with things to say.

The wind whipped around them and dead leaves swirled amongst the stones in an eerie dance. Jamie approached the tallest stone in the center of the circle and touched it. He turned his gaze on her again, face blank but eyes in turmoil. Usually his eyes seemed to shift subtly into different shades of blue in no discernible pattern. But now, they seemed to roil, darker shades raging against the lighter. It was an intimidating gaze to meet.

“Jamie…” Claire started hesitantly, gazing at the central stone. “Why are we here?”

“According to the legends it was here the Fraser man laid down his life to shield his faerie wife, over two hundred years ago. Ever since then, violence and death has followed the Fraser line.”

Claire tore her eyes away from the massive stone in the center of the circle, not liking the tone of Jamie’s voice.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you’re not safe around me, Claire, and I will not put your life in danger.”

Watching his exhausted face, she reached out for him, but he took a step back, keeping just out of her reach. Her patience finally snapped.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Then his expression changed into something she’d never seen before. He wore the emotionless mask so well that not even his eyes gave anything away.

“It means that you and I will never see each other again after today. It means you’ll go home and forget you ever met me. You’ll live a safe life with… Frank,” he said, nearly choking on the word. “There is nothing for you here, with me, save violence and danger.”

A tightness in her chest nearly stopped her breathing. She’d known that she cared about Jamie, but she didn’t think his words would hurt so much. 

“You… You’re leaving?”

“Yes. And I won’t tell you where we’re going, neither will Murtagh. I promise you will never see me again, but you’ll be safe.”

“You really expect me to believe you don’t want to see me again?”

His jaw clenched and she thought she caught a hint of pain and anger in his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter what you believe, Miss Beauchamp. The fact is I will disappear and it will be as if we’d never met. The only reason I’m standing here with you now is because I want you to have closure and live your life in peace.”

“What about what I want? Or doesn’t that matter?” Claire replied, voice higher than normal, her heartbeat racing.

“You have a life,” he said slowly. “Friends, a career, a man who loves you. I will not be the reason you are taken from them. Please, don’t come looking for me. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to disappear and you won’t find me.”

He was serious, his expression becoming hard and unmovable. As fond as she’d become of him, she thought he might be right. Knowing how he’d lost most of his family, she knew that even being friends with him was dangerous for her. She didn’t know him well enough to be sure she was comfortable with that kind of danger. Yet, here she was, trying to convince him to let her stay.

“Claire, you don’t want this… this life. You never have. You did your duty by me as a physician and have kept your word. I owe you more than can be repaid, but… we both Saw what’s coming and my Gift should not be your Curse.”

Claire’s breath hitched, the images of blood and darkness playing through her mind. Jamie watched her closely, reading her face.

“I want you to leave. Live your life. Forget about me. I never want to see you again.”

Heaviness settled on her heart as she took him in. She was rooted to the spot, wordless. He stood tall; broad shoulders set in decision, looking very much like the Highlander he was forced to disguise.

Suddenly he held something out to her, unable to meet her eyes.

“Your uncle was an archeologist,” he said softly. “A great lover of legend and myth. I thought you might like to add this to the small collection of books you have; the ones he gave you.”

Taking the book from him, she looked at the worn leather cover and read the title, blinking back tears. 

_ “History of Clan Fraser” _

“This is beautiful,” she said, holding it reverently.

When she looked up at him, his mask faltered. He bowed his head and began for the path down the hill.

“Good day, Miss Beauchamp. I hope your life is a happy one.”

He strode down the uneven hill as if he walked down a smooth paved road, not looking back. Claire opened the book and stared in shock at the old writings. In that moment, she knew his words to her had been a lie.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire makes a choice about Jamie.

The drive home for Claire was quiet and slow. She took her time, hardly paying attention to where she was actually going. All she could think of was the conflict Jamie had had. While he’d said repeatedly that he didn’t want to see her again, she was sure it wasn’t true. Not after he’d given her that book. That was a family treasure, something generations of Frasers had used to document their history. Every birth, every death, and every story worth noting in between. He knew she would appreciate and take care of it because of her uncle, but was that the only reason he’d given it to her?

When the road began to blur, Claire pulled over onto the side of the road and fought to control herself. A strange ache began to pulse in her chest, something she hadn’t felt in a very long time. She thought about never seeing Jamie again, never hearing his voice, never seeing his smile. She thought about those hours she’d spent sharing his hospital bed, how content she’d been in those moments. He was right, she still had Frank and her work, even Geillis if she was honest, but in the light of Jamie’s presence in her life, they didn’t feel like enough. She just couldn’t lose him. 

Was it possible to love someone you hardly knew? To know, deep down in your soul, that life without that person wasn’t a life worth having?

“It doesn’t matter,” she said to herself, rubbing the tears out of her eyes. “It doesn’t bloody matter.”

Before she did anything else, Claire drove home to deposit the book and clean herself up. After cleaning her face, she stood in front of her mirror, looking into her own eyes.

“It’s time,” she said to herself, thinking of Frank.

They’d lived a comfortable life together, but that wasn’t enough anymore. No matter what happened with Jamie, whether she found him or not, she had something she needed to do.

“I have to tell him.”

Back in her car, she pulled onto the road and drove with purpose to Frank’s flat.

He was home, as she knew he would be. With an early class the next morning, he rarely went out late. For a moment, she thought it might be too hard for her to end things with Frank. Then she compared the thought of never seeing Frank again to never seeing Jamie and she knew the truth. Despite what might happen with Jamie, Frank simply was not her match.

“Claire?” Frank asked, opening his door. “Are you alright?”

“No, actually,” she replied, awkwardly wringing her hands together. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

“Of course, come in.”

Carefully dodging his greeting kiss, she walked in and sat on his couch. He raised an eyebrow but sat down beside her, making sure to leave space between them.

“What’s wrong, Claire?”

“Frank, I… I’m not sure how to say this, so I suppose I’ll just say it. I think we should see other people.”

He blinked, brows lifting in surprise.

“What? You want to end things between us?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me why? I think you owe me that much.”

She nodded, knowing she did owe him a real explanation.

“It isn’t that you’re a bad man or that you did anything wrong.”

“Is there… someone else?” he asked delicately.

“I’ve never been unfaithful to you,” she assured him. “Not once. But… It isn’t fair to you. You’re a good man, Frank.”

He nodded slowly, looking down at his hands.

“Just not the one for you.”

Claire let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and shook her head slowly.

“I’m afraid not.”

When he finally met her eyes again, she saw the sadness. But this was for the best, for both of them.

“I understand.”

“I’m sorry, Frank.”

Nodding again, he stood and walked to the table where his keys sat. He picked them up and, seeing what he was doing, Claire fished her own keys out of her purse. After a moment he returned to her, handing over his copy of the key to her flat. She held his out for him to take, grateful that their parting had been amicable. Their relationship may not have been True Love, but at least there had been a foundation of mutual respect.

“Goodbye, Frank.”

“Goodbye, Claire.”

She let herself out, feeling a strange sense of freedom. In her car once more, she thought about her options. Perhaps Jamie didn’t feel about her the way she felt about him. Even so, she had to tell him that she’d started to feel  _ something _ , even if she didn’t know just what that was. Rather than go home, she drove to Jamie’s flat.

When she arrived, she’d half expected Jamie to be waiting at the door . A psychic was supposed to know the future, and he’d seemed to always know when she’d be popping by for a visit. But this time, he didn’t answer the door. Neither did Murtagh. She turned the knob and it swung open on silent hinges and her heart sank. 

Furniture was still scattered in the rooms, but the personal items were gone: Murtagh’s tea set, the photos on the walls, the collections of books. It wasn’t possible. They couldn’t have disappeared that quickly, could they?

“Jamie?” she called, knowing full well the entire building was empty. “Murtagh? It’s Claire. Claire Beauchamp?”

Her heart started beating again, surging with agony. The last time she’d seen his face couldn’t be the last time. Charging through the flat, she searched every room. Eventually, she would have to accept that Jamie was gone.

“No,” she said, half to herself, half to the missing Fraser men. “If he’d meant what he said, he wouldn’t have given me that bloody book. That’s not how you give closure.”

Digging the cell phone from her pocket, she dialed his number. All she got in return was a recorded message saying the number had been disconnected. Closing her eyes, Claire tried to calm her rising panic. Two men couldn’t just vanish at the drop of a hat. The sort of preparations Murtagh had set up here took time, and there was no way he’d keep two flats. That meant they’d have to hide out somewhere until a new place could be arranged.

But if the military hadn’t been able to find him, what hope did she have? Then it dawned on her. She had something the military didn’t have. Information. She had the full Fraser clan history, specifically Jamie’s story. Murtagh had told her Jamie’s sister Jenny was still alive, living with her husband at…

Desperate to recall the name of the place, Claire paced up and down the hall. Broch. It had had broch in the name. But what was it? Half of Scotland had ‘broch’ in the name somewhere. 

“Lallybroch!” she yelped suddenly, the name flashing through her mind. “Now where the hell is Lallybroch?”

Determined to reach the end of this mystery, Claire drove home with the intent to do research. Geillis was home, painting her toenails with a deep emerald color.

“Hello there,” she said sweetly before blowing on the wet paint. “And where have you been all afternoon?”

She’d been lying to Geillis for so long about Jamie to help keep him safe, but what was she supposed to say now?

“I, um… Well, I broke things off with Frank.”

“Thank  _ GOD! _ I thought you’d be stuck with him forever! Oh! We should go out to the pub tonight!”

Claire’s eyes rolled hard.

“No, Geillis. I’m not going out ‘hunting’ tonight. I have some things I need to do.”

Eyes the same color as the nailpolish watched Claire disappear into her room. Pulling her laptop out of it’s bag, Claire opened up Google and started typing. She didn’t care if it took her all night. She  _ would _ find Lallybroch.

When all variations on ‘Lallybroch’ didn’t turn up very much information, Claire decided to try calling one of the tourism companies in Scotland.

“Hello, thank ye for calling  _ Heart of Scotland Tours. _ My name is Cynthia, how can I help ye?”

“Hello Cynthia. I’m trying to find a place in Scotland, but I’m afraid my internet searching hasn’t been very fruitful. I’m not looking to book a tour, but I’m hoping you can help me.”

Claire heard a few clicks on a keyboard.

“Och of course! What is it ye’re lookin’ for then, Claire?”

“The only name I have is a place called Lallybroch. I don’t know more than that.”

She knew the Fraser family had been attached to Lallybroch for generations, but Claire was reluctant to give that information up.

“Oh aye! That estate is up near Broch Morda, ken? It’s a verra old place, but I’m afraid they dinna allow tours of the place. I’ve tried to talk them into it, but they willna allow it. It has so much history, it would be a lovely place to have tours, but…”

“Broch… Morda,” Claire said quietly, scribbling the name down on a piece of paper. “Thank you very much, Cynthia.”

“Aye, anytime lass.”

Claire hung up and began searching for Broch Morda.

***

Dougal turned off the radio in his car. So  _ that _ was where the lad had run. Finally, his patience was being rewarded. 

***

Claire went to work the next day, desperate for distraction. Despite everything in her personal life breaking into chaos, work was the one thing she could count on to be consistent. Well… sort of.

“Claire, I need your help in room 7 please!”

Jogging down the hall, she pushed into the room and got to work helping Joe Abernathy. They worked side by side like a well oiled machine. With their job done and their patient breathing easily, Joe smiled at her.

“Wanna grab a cup of coffee, LJ?”

But she didn’t hear him. Her mind was filled with images of Lallybroch, the little red pin on the map on her computer screen.

“What’s up, Lady Jane,” Joe asked again, nudging her shoulder.

“I don’t know what to do,” she breathed. 

Steering her to the break room, he sat her down and put a cup of coffee in front of her. 

“What to do about what?” he asked softly.

She stared down at the dark liquid. One finger traced the rim of the cup over and over, her mind drifting.

Jamie had said he didn’t want to see her ever again. But then he’d given her the Fraser history book. His actions and his words were in conflict.

“Claire, if you don’t tell me what’s got steam comin’ out your ears, I’m gonna have to dump that coffee in your lap.”

“Joe, what if I’ve made a mistake? What if-”

“Start at the beginning, LJ, or this won’t make a lick of sense.”

So she did, telling him as much as she dared about Jamie. Joe slammed his empty coffee cup down on the table when she finished with the standing stones.

“That bastard had the balls to say that to you?”

“What if he was trying to protect me? Doing what he thought was right?”

“What if he was? Does that change anything?”

Did it? She didn’t know how to answer him.

“Do you know where he is?”

“No. I went back to his flat but it was empty.”

“Here’s the important question. Do you  _ want _ to find him again? Or just leave things as they are?”

When she’d thought about it, she knew she had to see Jamie again. Living without him was too painful to bear. She’d done all the research to find Lallybroch, the only connection to Jamie she had left, save the book. Then again…

Too many people that she’d loved had been taken from her. Those holes in her heart would never heal, not fully. To admit to herself that she’d developed feelings for Jamie opened her up to that kind of pain again. She wasn’t sure she could survive it another time.

“Is it even worth it, Joe?”

“You didn’t know me before I married Gail,” he said, smiling at the thought of his wife. “But I was a bit like you, gunshy. I wouldn’t trade her for the world, or any of the experiences we’ve had. It’s not always easy, but it’s always worth the risk.”

Looking up at him, she met his warm brown eyes.

“So… I should find him?”

“I can’t answer that for you, LJ. But I think you already know what you want.”

A moment ago, she’d felt on the verge of crying, her throat feeling tight. Now, she had the urge to leap to her feet and whoop. 

“Gail’s a lucky woman,” she said, finally taking a sip of her coffee.

“That she is. And it’s been an awfully long time since I’ve seen that spark in your eye. You go and get him, Lady Jane.”

Trying to keep the smile from her lips, she continued drinking her coffee. 

***

When Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser had told Jamie that he had a ‘temporary place for us to hide out’, Jamie hadn’t thought it was the cave on the edge of the Lallybroch property. Yet here he was, sitting on a mat in the recesses of the earth.

Having no one to talk to, nothing to distract him, his mind wandered. The last thing he wanted was to let it go free, but he had little choice. He knew what he would see when he closed his eyes - the look on Claire’s face when he’d told her he didn’t want to see her anymore. Christ, that had felt like tearing out his own heart.

If he focused hard enough, he could still feel her body molded against his, warm and soft in all the right places. Before he knew it, tears were sliding down his cheeks.

“Are ye decent?”

Jamie jumped, not expecting any visitors in his isolation.

“Aye.”

Then his older sister Jenny appeared from the hidden opening of the cave. This was the first time he’d seen her in over two years and she looked happy.

“God, Jenny,” he choked out before falling into her arms and hugging her tight.

She was crying too, he could feel the moisture soaking through his shirt, but he wouldn’t let go.

“I could hear ye thinkin’ halfway down the hill,” she whispered. “Jamie, what have ye done now?”

“I had to, Jenny. I couldna let her come to harm.”

He’d learned a long time ago how to have a half conversation with her. With a Gift like hers, he almost didn’t need to speak at all, but he couldn’t hear thoughts like she could. Speaking was still at least a little necessary.

“Aye, I ken, brother. Come and tell me about her, aye?”

“Jenny, ye kent what I was thinking before ye even got in here.”

She shrugged and sat down on the mat he’d gotten up from.

“Aye, that’s true. But I like to hear ye talk. It’s been so long.”

Reluctantly, he eased himself down beside her. Jenny wasn’t as big as he was, she’d taken after their father more. She gave him a few moments to collect himself before nudging him in the side, right where he was ticklish. 

“Her name is Claire Beauchamp,” he started.

By the time he’d finished, she’d gotten the whole story out of him, even if he hadn’t spoken all of it out loud. With her, he didn’t have to be anything other than who he was. Jenny never expected anything from him but the truth, and she always stood by his side. He’d missed her terribly in the last two years.

“I ken why ye felt ye had to, Jamie, but… Ye need her Gift.”

“Aye, I ken. But I canna… Jenny, would ye want Ian to stay wi’ ye because he feared ye’d die otherwise? That’s what it would be if I asked Claire to say and be a healer for me. I canna ask that of her.”

Jenny sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. It was something she’d done since he’d gotten taller than her and she continued to do it whenever he was back.

“I have to ask,” she said quietly.

“No. I still canna see yours or Ian’s futures. Or any bairns ye might have.”

“I thought not. It’s nice at the house, wi’ just him. We can talk and no’ hide anything. I dinna have to pretend that I didna ken the punchline of his jokes  because I truly dinna ken. It’s damned annoying, sometimes.”

Jamie snorted.

“Ian’s no’ that funny.”

“Aye, he isna. But he likes when I laugh at his jokes. And I like when he smiles.”

“I’m happy for ye, Jenny. He’s a good man for ye.  I’m glad ye have someone here to watch ye since I canna do it. I feel better when I ken you’re safe. ”

Jenny shot him a flat look and smacked the back of his head.

“Oh, I can fend for myself. Dinna forget that, brother,” she said with a familiar edge.

Jamie laughed.

“That ye can. But it’s nice no’ to have to go it alone, aye?”

She nodded and sighed.

“Aye, it is. I should get back to him or he’ll be worriet sick. Murtagh wasna sure how long it would take before he could get ye moved somewhere else. I’m sorry Jamie. I’ll try to come up again tomorrow night and make sure ye dinna need anything.”

“Thank ye, Jenny. I ken this is dangerous for ye as well. Tell Ian I said thanks.”

“Aye, I will.  I’ll make sure to leave food for ye in the kitchen. If ye come down to the house and ye need to hide quick, remember the priest’s hole. I’ll no’ have my only brother carted off never to be seen again.”

Jamie hugged her again, tightly. 

Then Jenny got up and disappeared through the cave entrance. Talking with her about Claire had helped ease his mind a little, but his chest still felt like it had a hole in it. When his eyes closed, he almost began drawing on his power to See Claire, just once more. No. He had to let her go, let her be with Frank and forget about him. Maybe someday that thought wouldn’t hurt so much.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire arrives at Lallybroch.

Turning down the long drive, Claire hoped this was the right place. When she’d started searching for ‘Lallybroch’ in her mission to find Jamie, she’d come up with very little. One mention in a small newspaper had revealed its formal name: Broch Tuarach.

Armed with a proper name, finding the location had taken only minutes. Then she’d gotten in her car and started the drive. She didn’t know what to expect when she got there. Jamie was almost certainly not on the property, as that would be the first logical place to look for him. But maybe they’d told Jenny where they planned to settle next? That was just as unlikely, but Claire had no other options, no other way to find him.

She parked her car in an empty spot beside another car, praying someone would be home. Pulling on the big brass knocker, she did all she could to restrain her nerves. Her fingers began to twitch a little and she clenched them together to stop them. When the door opened, she was greeted by a tall, lanky man with mouse brown hair.

“Good evening, lass. What can I do for ye? If ye’ve something to sell, I’m afraid I’ll have to say no. My wife doesna like when I spend money wi’out her approval.”

Claire’s mouth opened, but she couldn’t make herself speak. She’d been expecting to meet a woman, not this strangely kind man.

“I, um…” 

Nervous and uncomfortable, her eyes darted around, trying to find something safe to land on. That was why she noticed the prosthetic leg.

“Oh!” she said, marveling at the artistry of the piece. “That’s beautiful. How did it happen?”

“Och,” the man said, waving a hand. “Weel, ye ken there’s a monster in Loch Ness, aye? She and I met and she decided she wanted to take me wi’ her. She made off wi’ my leg instead. I’m banned from visiting Loch Ness ever again.”

At the start of his story, she’d been sure he was kidding. But by the end, she couldn’t tell.

“Ian, what are ye doing harassing visitors at this hour,” came a sharp voice.

When his face broke into a smile, Claire let out a breathy chuckle. Then a woman came around to stand beside him, her dark hair piled on top of her head. Claire could see some of Jamie in that face, the same eyes, same full lips, same nose. It had to be his sister.

“Jenny?”

The smiles on both their faces vanished in an instant, Ian stepping slightly in front of his wife.

“I dinna ken who ye are,” he said in a low, menacing voice. “But ye should leave now while ye still can.”

“Please,” she said, begging. “I need your help.”

Jenny’s blue eyes narrowed for a moment, as if she were concentrating on something.

“She knows Jamie,” she announced, though Claire wasn’t sure who to. “And she’s lookin’ for him.”

Ian stood tall, waiting for more information.

“You’re Claire,” she finally said.

“Jesus H. Bloody Christ, I am. I’m so sorry, I should have introduced myself, not frightened you both half to death. I’m Claire Beauchamp. I… I know Jamie and I’m worried about him. I don’t expect that he’s told you where he is, I just hoped maybe…” she trailed off, wondering what it was she’d hoped to gain from this. 

“Ye came all the way out here to find him?” Ian asked, relaxing a little.

She met his eyes and nodded.

“Yes, I did. I thought he’d meant it, when he said we couldn’t be friends or be around each other. But then he… So I thought maybe he’d sent me away because of…”

“Aye,” Jenny said. “Come in before ye catch a cold out here, and tell me just why ye want to find my brother so bad.”

Jenny took them to the kitchen table and they all three sat. Murtagh and Jamie both had mentioned that Jenny was a Listener, whereas Jamie was a Seer. Claire wasn’t sure exactly how Jenny’s Gift worked, but she imagined all of her thoughts were laid out in the open.

“Aye,” Jenny interrupted Claire’s thought. “They are. No’ quite the way ye think, but close enough. Why is it ye want to find Jamie? Lots of people want to find him and use him for their own gain. What is it ye want?”

“I… I don’t know, actually. I thought I wanted him to explain why he thought giving me that book would give me closure. Or why he thought I could ever forget about him. I want to make sure he’s alright. He was in hospital not long ago because of his migraines. But of course, you probably knew that already...” she trailed off.

Claire wondered how it worked, listening to someone’s words as well as their thoughts. Her mind liked to skip down rabbit trails whenever it wasn’t directly engaged in something.

“Would ye stop thinkin’ so many questions?” Jenny demanded. “I canna get a good read on ye if all ye think about is how my Gift works.”

Claire blinked and ducked her head.

“I’m sorry.”

Forcing her mind to calm, she found herself thinking about the last time she’d seen Jamie; how exhausted he’d looked, the sadness in his eyes when he’d sent her away.

“Please,” Claire whispered again. “I have to see him. Do you know where Murtagh’s put him? Where he might be hiding out?”

Jenny exchanged a look with her husband before nodding once.

“Aye. I think I ken just where he is. Come wi’ me.”

Claire practically launched to her feet and trotted after Jenny. They got into Jenny’s car and drove around the edge of the property until they reached a place that was very well hidden. Why had Jenny brought her out here? A sudden flash of panic had her thinking about what Jenny might do to protect her brother’s secret.

“No,” Jenny said patiently. “I’m no’ gonna hit ye o’er the head wi’ a shovel and bury ye in a cave, so ye dinna have to worry about that. Ye said ye wanted to see Jamie again. Weel… He’s in there,” she nodded to the hillside.

“In where? I can’t see a cave entrance.”

“Aye, and that’s the point! Just walk up to that rowan tree. By the time ye get there, I’m sure you’ll ken how to get in.”

Claire got out and stared at the hillside, eyes locked on the tree.

“Thank you, Jenny.”

“Jamie needs ye, Claire,” she said. “Though he’s only doing what he thinks is best. Just remember what my Da always told us. ‘Frasers are stubborn as rocks, and just as thick heided.’ You’ll have to be just as stubborn.”

Smiling, Claire turned back toward the rowan tree.

“Oh, I am.”

***

Jamie lay on his bedroll, staring up at the soot-blackened ceiling of the cave. Shortly after they’d discovered this place, they’d set about making it safe to live in for a time. The chill inside was a problem they’d fixed, making strategic vent holes so the smoke from a fire could escape without giving away the location.

A log on the fire cracked and split, sending up a flurry of sparks. When he blinked the light from his eyes, an angel stood just inside the cave mouth. He sat up so quickly he knocked his head on a small jut of rock.

“Claire! What the hell are ye doing here?!”

“I’ve been looking for you,” she said, walking slowly toward him.

“But,” he began, before realizing he didn’t know what to say. “It isna safe!”

She nodded.

“I’ve been thinking about that over the last few days. I had safe, with Frank. But I realized something, that night after the Faerie Hill. I don’t  _ want _ safe.”

“What do ye want, then?” he asked, hoping she couldn’t hear his heart speeding.

She smiled softly then, eyes filled with tenderness.

“I want passion and excitement. I want to be surprised by what each day brings. I want to try new things and scare myself. But, above all that… What I want is  _ you _ .”

_ Christ. _

Shaking his head in disbelief, he backed away from her until he hit the cave wall. It wasn’t a very large cave and he was a big man. There wasn’t much space for him to escape.

“No,” he said, though his voice shook. “There’s nothing here for ye, save violence and danger.”

“Yes, you said that, in exactly that tone, on Craigh Na Dun.”

“What about Frank?”

She took another step near him.

“What about him?”

“Ye dinna think he’ll be a wee bit upset at ye offering yerself to another man?”

“I’m not his to worry about anymore.”

She was right in front of him now, close enough to touch. He balled his fists, resisting the urge. He’d seen her die, felt the weight of her in his arms after she’d passed. That future would happen if she stayed with him.

“Claire, ye canna. It’s no’ safe.”

“Didn’t you just hear me? I don’t care if it’s not safe, as long as I’ve got you. Jamie, I…”

Her eyes went wide for a moment and he suddenly worried if his vision was happening now. He leaned forward, adrenaline rushing through his veins. Then, a sharp intake of breath later, she was staring up at him, smiling.

“Are ye alright?”

“You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“Says the Englishwoman to the powerful psychic?”

She chuckled.

“I suppose, when you put it that way.”

“What is it ye thought of just then?”

“I realized that, though I haven’t known you for very long…” she stopped, tears brimming. “I know that I love you. I didn’t think anyone, especially me, could fall in love so quickly. But it happened, with you. And I simply won’t live without you, Jamie Fraser and that’s all about it.”

He’d stopped breathing. It couldn’t be true, she couldn’t have just said those words. This was another vision, a strong one. But he could smell the floral scent of her; the fire lighting of the tendrils of hair that curled about her face.

“Did you hear me?” she asked softly, eyes shining.

Jamie blinked.

“Aye,” he said slowly. “I heard ye. But Claire, ye… Ye canna…”

She couldn’t. And yet, he found himself drawn toward her, a hairsbreadth away from touching her.

“Can’t I? You can’t tell me that sharing your hospital bed didn’t feel right. That this whole mess that started the day I walked into your shop for a reading that wasn’t supposed to happen.”

She reached for his hands then, her touch cool and light as a butterfly’s wing.

“I want to be with you, whatever that means. If I have to hide out in this cave with you for the next thirty years, I’ll do it.”

She meant it. Blessed Mary, mother of God she meant it. 

“Ye want to stay wi’ me?” he asked carefully. “Ye’d choose to? No’ just because ye think I need a good doctor around?”

Claire’s brows drew together slightly, but the curve of her lips never left.

“You probably do, if those migraines and nosebleeds get any worse - that’s just an added bonus. But no, that’s not the reason.”

She lifted his left hand then, touching his palm to her cheek.

“I want to be here because that’s where you are. Nothing more.”

Without a conscious thought, he had her in his arms, pulled tight against him. He peppered her face with kisses, feeling the way her smile rounded her cheeks. Then her hands took hold of his face, keeping him still long enough to give him a proper kiss.

Lust burned through him in a way he’d never experienced. Her mouth moved against his, eager and hungry. He was beginning to lose himself in her, in the way she’d started churning her hips, her hand holding him to her by the nape of his neck.

Regretfully, he pulled himself away. He’d never seen a lovelier sight. Her eyes were dark and wanting, like they were in the vision they’d shared all those weeks ago. Lips swollen and hair tousled… aye, he wanted her quite badly.

"As much as I want ye Sassenach," he said, kissing her softly between her brows. "I'll no' have the first time be shivering on a hard slab of rock."

An interesting combination of disappointment and amusement crossed her face.

“Always the gentleman.”

He kissed her again, already addicted to the taste of her lips.

“Aye, I try to be.”

“I wasn’t sure how this would end,” she said, almost shyly. “I’m… I’m not sure where I’m supposed to stay tonight.”

“Wi’ me,” he answered without hesitation.

She looked around the small cave.

“I did say I’d hide here for thirty years with you. I suppose I should get used to it now.”

He laughed, opening a small chest with extra blankets and quilts.

“Aye, ye did. But ye canna go back to the manor house right now. No’ wi’ the sun gone. Ye’d break your neck getting down that hill. Just stay wi’ me. I’ll keep ye warm.”

“I thought you said ‘not on a hard slab of rock’?” she said, restraining a giggle.

Throwing another blanket down, he indicated her to join him.

“Aye, I did. And I meant it. But that doesna mean I canna keep ye warm, Sassenach.” 

Almost as they had when he’d been in hospital, they lay down on the floor, his arm curled around her. He’d never felt anything so perfect before. The smile on her face gave him a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

“Jamie?” she asked quietly, fingers tracing over the back of his hand.

“Aye, Sassenach?”

“What are we going to do now? What does this mean?”

He sighed, burying his face in her hair.

“I dinna ken. No’ yet, anyway. But whatever may come, we’ll face it together, aye?”

“So when you said you’d take me home, you meant…”

“To Lallybroch.”

He watched as she bit her lip to keep from smiling. The sight made him want to burst with joy and restrained lust all at once.

“Will you have to stay out here?” she asked, not looking at him.

“Maybe not. If Jenny or Ian get visitors, I’ll come out here. But, perhaps we could spend a night or two in the manor house.”

“We?”

His heart began to race, thinking over their earlier exchange and how he’d felt when he’d kissed her.

“Uh, aye. If ye want, I mean. I’m no’ expectin’... I mean ye dinna have to… if ye’d rather stay in Broch Morda, we could-”

“I didn’t come all this way to stay in Broch Morda,” she said, turning her head to look back at him. “I’d rather stay with you.”

“Oh,” he said stupidly, but absurdly pleased. “Alright. We’ll talk wi’ Jenny in the morning and see what room she’ll set aside for us.”

Claire made a contented sound that reminded him of a satisfied cat and her lips curled.

“Us. I like the way that sounds.”

She fell peacefully to sleep then, her lips still smiling. He watched her for a time, listening to the wind whistle through the cave and the crackle of the fire. There was no telling when her death would come, but, he decided, it wouldn’t be today.

A few hours later, though he couldn’t be sure how long, he woke realizing Claire was shivering. Looking around, he saw the fire had died out. Muttering Gaelic curses, he dug through the small chest for the book of matches. As he set another log onto the fire, he heard her stirring. Turning, he watched a smile come to her face as the log caught, giving her pale skin a ruddy glow. She had rounded features, he thought, though it wasn’t at all a bad thing. Nothing in the world could make her less than perfect to him.

With another log on the fire to ensure it would burn until morning, he settled in behind her again, wrapping the thick wool plaid around them tightly. Shifting to be more comfortable, he allowed his fingers to play through her soft curls.

“Rest, mo nighean donn,” he breathed into her ear. “Tomorrow, I’ll take ye home.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before anything else can happen, Claire and Jamie have some things to discuss.

  * Wake up. 
  * Cute nervous Claire. 
  * Lallybroch and breakfast. 
  * Paintings and the room. 
  * Talk for a bit. 
    * Maybe about his parents and Willie. His vision that came true about his brother. 
    * Maybe let her in on Dougal or the government (or he can have a vision that night about something)/tell her about close kidnapping attempts? 
  * Jenny/Ian and dinner. 
  * Funny stories from their youth and Jamie blushing like a strawberry. 
  * Go to the room and he's all nervous. 
  * Bc there was room for secrets but not lies. 
  * But now there's more than just respect between them and he owes her the full truth.



\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jamie found himself torn the following morning. Did he wake her? Did he let her sleep? Would she be angry with him if he woke her up? Would she be angry if he didn’t? Before he had to think about it for too long, she sighed and opened her eyes.

“I wondered if that had been a dream,” she said softly.

“What? Finding me here and sleepin’ in a cave all night?”

That wee devilish smile came to her lips again and he couldn’t resist stealing a kiss from them.

“Well yes, I suppose.”

“Nae, lass. It wasna a dream. I think if we clean up a bit and hurry to the house, breakfast might still be hot.”

“I’m not sure I’m very hungry at the moment,” she said, sitting up as he pushed the plaid off them.

Frowning, he looked over at her.

“No?” he asked, beginning to fold up the blankets. “Are ye no’ a breakfast person, then?”

“I am, usually.”

“Ach. It’s likely the stink o’ this place. It used to put me off my breakfast too. You’ll get yer appetite back when ye smell Mrs. Crook’s cookin’. The woman is a wizard in the kitchen, I promise ye.”

When he realized Claire had gone silent, he turned around to make sure she was alright. She had a look of complete adoration on her face, grinning softly at him.

“What?” he asked.

Claire sighed and shrugged.

“You’ve missed being home, haven’t you? It’s good to see you so happy.”

Dropping the last blanket into the chest, he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her swiftly.

“You are part of the reason I’m so happy, Sassenach. I didna think I’d ever see ye again, and here ye are. You’re a brave wee thing, aren’t ye?”

She reached up and kissed him slowly, her arms coming around his neck to pull herself closer. The stirrings he’d felt earlier came back and he thought about what they’d said.

“I love you, and right now that’s all that matters,” she said softly.

“I love ye too, Claire.”

He did. So much he thought his heart would burst with it. He caressed her cheek tenderly as she took a shaking breath.

“What is it, lass?”

She pursed her lips but looked up at him again.

“Just… Nervous, I suppose. I mean, I met Jenny and Ian last night. But now…” she trailed off, looking away.

“Now it’s different,” he finished.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Ye dinna need to be scairt of me, or anyone here, so long as I am with ye.”

She gave him a tentative smile before she took his hand and they left the small cave. He’d always hated it, staying in that hole in the earth. But now it felt as though it had importance.

The house, to Jamie’s surprise, was empty. Food still steamed on the dining room table, with a note sitting beside it.

_ Jamie, I met your lady last night. If she’s anything like I think she is, you’ll have brought her home by now. She is a good match for you, James Fraser, so don’t you mess this up. Ian and I agreed that, while you’re able to stay with us, the Laird’s Bedroom is yours. And Claire’s. -Jenny _

_ P.S. Murtagh is out getting your new place ready. Ian and I have gone for a walk. A  _ _ long _ _ walk. _

Jamie folded the note back up before Claire could read it and sighed. Claire had picked up a plate and had begun eating.

“I thought ye said ye werena hungry.”

“You were right about smelling the food. This woman is a wizard indeed. I’ve never tasted anything like this before.”

Grinning, he sat down beside her and started in on his own breakfast. While he ate, Claire continued to smile, nudging his foot with her own. She kept nudging him, almost giggling every time he looked up at her. The sound of it was like music to him, the most beautiful song in the universe.

“Well?” Claire asked, finishing the orange juice in her glass. “Does that note in your pocket tell us where we can stay?”

“Aye,” he said, voice cracking. “Jenny’s set up the laird’s room for us.”

Piling up their dirty dishes, Jamie showed her to the kitchen before taking her hand.  They went outside and grabbed her bags from the boot of the car and brought them in. Jamie stopped at the foot of the staircase, setting the two bags he carried down. Claire raised an eyebrow but did the same, taking the hand he held out to her. 

“I think… Maybe before we go upstairs, we should talk.”

Pink flushed her cheeks.

“That’s probably a good idea…”

“May I show you around the house? Share a bit o’ the Fraser history wi’ ye?”

“I’d love that!”

Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, he took her around the house. 

“This is a portrait of Jenny, when she was much younger. See the birds? She used to nurse them back to health. Hang about long enough and you’ll hear Ian call himself one of Jenny’s flock.”

Claire smiled.

“Followed her around, did he?”

Jamie laughed.

“Weel, my sister didna give him much say in the matter, as I recall. But aye, he’s always had a soft spot for her.

Jamie nodded, tucking Claire’s hand into the crook of his arm.

“If Jenny can't Hear his thoughts… can you See his future?”

Jamie grimaced slightly. 

“No. Something about Ian shields him from us. It's a good thing, especially when Jenny has her dander up,” Jamie said with a smile. “It's hard sometimes, no’ being able to See them. Jenny’s future is woven with Ian’s now. I canna say what will happen.”

“That's why you stay away,” Claire guessed. “Because you can't See. You don't know when someone may come here. What might happen to them?”

Jamie nodded. “Aye. It’s… hard. But I canna take the chance wi’ them.”

They walked around a corner and Claire saw a beautiful portrait that she thought at first was Jamie. But when she looked closer, she saw the cheekbones were different, the nose a little flatter, and the eyes more slanted.

“Willie,” Jamie’s voice came soft. “My brother.”

“Murtagh said he had the same Gift as you?”

“Aye, but mine came in stronger. He was my best friend, save Ian.”

As they continued through the large house, he told her bits of history or legend about different items as they passed. Then he paused just outside the study, hand on the doorknob. 

“Would ye like to meet my parents, Sassenach?”

“Very much,” she whispered, matching his reverent tone.

Jamie opened the door and held it for her. Once he’d turned on the light, she saw the portrait of Ellen and Brian. They were a beautiful pair, looking into each other’s eyes, hands clasped between them. Both wore large smiles, their eyes alight with joy.

“That was at their wedding, ken?” Jamie said from behind her. “They were happy wi’ each other.”

“You must miss them terribly.”

Tearing her eyes from Jamie’s parents, she turned to look at him. Both arms were folded over his chest and he had his head down, shielding his face from her view.

“Aye. I miss them verra much. I’ve… I’ve so many things I wish I could ask them. Things about my Gift, or about becoming a man. I’ve had Murtagh, and I love him dearly, but he isne my father.”

“I’m so sorry, Jamie. I know how hard it is to lose your parents.”

“And so ye do, Sassenach. Here, come sit wi’ me.”

Jamie sat down on a comfortable old couch and Claire sat beside him. There were so many things he needed to tell her, he just wasn’t sure where to start. Perhaps, now that she’d seen Willie, he should tell her about what he’d Seen of her future.

“What’s wrong, Jamie?”

“Ye ken… Do ye recall the vision we shared? Wi’ all the blood?”

“When I called the ambulance?”

He nodded, the vision coming back to him in flashes.

“I need to tell ye about Willie before I can tell ye about that vision, so ye understand.”

She settled into her seat, preparing to hear whatever he had to tell her.

“Willie had the Sight. He was six years older than me, but I followed him like a shadow. When I turned eleven, my Gift came. That was a few years early, but it wasna unheard of for a lad to get his Gift sooner than expected. For some time, I never had a true vision, only catching fragments when I slept. But…” He took a deep, shuddering breath. The vision was as fresh today as it had been all those years ago. “The first full vision I had was of Willie dyin’. I kent how it would happen, when, where he’d be. I told him, frantic and desperate to save him. I thought if he kent about it too, he could do something to stop it.”

Claire put a hand on his knee in silent support.

“But… It wasne enough. That day… I went to find him, hoping he’d be in a different place than my vision had him. But Murtagh had already found him and I kent he… I kent Willie was gone.”

“That wasn’t your fault, Jamie.”

“If I’d had the vision sooner, if I’d Seen it sooner, maybe I could have…”

He stopped and shook his head. 

“You said Willie had something to do with the vision we shared?”

“Aye,” he said, grateful for the reminder. “It does. I’ve no’ looked far into anyone’s future because of Willie. I dinna want to watch someone die ever again. But… That day, I Saw something. Tell me… How much of it did ye see?”

Her eyes closed in concentration. 

“I saw blood, mostly. I somehow knew it was mine, maybe I saw myself? But not much more than that.”

“I Saw more than that. I watched ye die, Claire. Bleedin’ out like my mam did. I sat there and stared as yer life just… left ye. Christ, I…” his voice broke. “That was why I sent ye away. I kent what would happen to ye if ye stayed wi’ me. I wanted ye to stay, but I couldna… I didna want to watch another person I loved die.”

His chest ached and breathing was a struggle. The last thing he’d wanted to do was dwell on that vision, of Seeing her die. But he couldn’t keep it from her.

Her hands were cool against his heated face as she wiped the tears from his cheeks. She turned his face to hers, staring into the depths of his eyes without worry.

“Then we’ll change it. Whatever we have to do, we’ll do it together.”

“I tried to change it once, Claire, and my brother is dead,” he replied softly, hands tightening at her waist. 

“The only explanation I have for all of this happening is that we are meant to be together. You and I. Whatever this is between us… it's too soon for that to just disappear.”

Jamie stared at her, love and fear both in his eyes, then he brought his forehead to hers. 

“Can we?” he whispered. “Do ye really think we can change the future?”

She laughed, tears now trickling down her own face. 

“I think we’re both too stubborn to give in at the first sign of trouble. And I care about you too damn much to let you do this on your own , James Fraser .”

Little by little, his breathing became easier. He pulled her in for a hug, burying his nose in the scent of her hair as she gently rubbed his back.

“Aye. Then I suppose we’ll have to change the future.”

When he got a hold of himself, he took a restorative breath and sat back in the couch. Claire leaned her head on his shoulder, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Tell me about Willie? What was he like?”

For the first time since his brother’s death, Jamie spoke freely about him. He shared stories he’d thought lost, recalled games they’d played as boys, even the dog they’d had. Even with Jenny, he hadn’t opened up like this. But with Claire, it felt right.

He had no idea how long they’d been in the study, sharing stories from their respective childhoods, when a knock came at the door.

“Aye? Who is it?”

“It’s yer sister, clotheid.”

Jamie smiled and got up, pulling Claire with him. Opening the door, he saw Jenny look up at him expectantly, Ian waiting just behind her.

“Hey Jenny. Didna expect ye back so soon.”

Her eyes narrowed for a moment before her face softened. She knew he’d been talking about Willie.

“Jamie it’s nearly time for supper. Ye mean to tell me ye’ve had this lovely lass in here all this time and havena fed her?!”

“Christ, is it really so late?”

“Aye,” Ian said, putting a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “It is. Perhaps we should reintroduce ourselves? Poor Claire was a bit frantic when she arrived last night and I put her off wi’ jokes about my leg.”

Jamie rolled his eyes.

“Ye didna tell her the Loch Ness story, did ye?”

“O’ course I did! That’s my best one!”

“Jenny, ye married a fool.”

Jenny shrugged, smiling fondly up at Ian.

“Aye, that’s as may be. But he’s  _ my _ fool and I’ve grown rather fond of havin’ him about.”

Then Jamie realized Claire had shrunk behind him. With an arm around her shoulders, he pulled her up beside him.

“Claire Beauchamp, I’d like to formally introduce ye to my sister, Jenny Murray, and her husband, Ian Murray. Contrary to what he might have told ye, he did  _ not _ lose his leg to the Loch Ness Monster.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Claire said, voice trembling a little as she offered her hand to shake. 

Jenny met her eyes and shook her hand, though Jamie was sure she was Listening to Claire’s thoughts. Ian shook Claire’s hand as well, giving her his friendliest smile.

“Would ye like to join us for dinner, Claire? Or have ye something to get back to?”

“I’d be honored to join you. I’ve nowhere else to be.”

The four of them left the study, Ian falling in behind Jenny to speak with Claire. Likely telling another ‘tall tale’ of how he’d lost his leg.

“Did ye no’ see my note?” Jenny asked quietly.

“Aye, I did.”

“And ye didna take her upstairs?”

He pursed his lips and gave her a flat look.

“Things needed to be said first, Janet.”

“Then ye talk  _ after _ ! Sometimes that’s the best time to talk.”

His face heated and he knew his ears had turned bright red.

“Stop it! I’m no’ a wild,” he glanced behind him to be sure Claire wasn’t listening, “lust crazed beast!”

Jenny said nothing other than lifting an eyebrow at him and walking faster. Claire’s cool hand slipped into his, her fingers lacing through his own.

“I’m still not sure how Ian lost his leg,” she said. “But he seems to like me.”

“Of course he does, Sassenach. What’s no’ to like?”

Still clinging to him, she took her seat at the table beside him. Mrs. Crook came out a moment later and filled the table with food. 

“So, Claire,” Ian said, serving himself and Jenny some fried potatoes. “What is it ye do?”

“I’m a surgeon. I work here at the local hospital.”

Jenny’s eyes snapped up to Jamie’s, but he shook his head. Not yet.

“Ah! That explains the look in yer eye when ye saw my peg leg.”

“Och would ye stop wi’ that?” Jenny asked. “It’s no’ a peg leg.”

While they settled into comfortable conversation, Jamie watched Claire find her place in the family. Jenny and Ian accepted her with open arms easing some of the tension in Jamie’s chest.

“So he’s runnin’ about, no’ wearin’ a stitch mind, wi’ the biggest smile on his wee face,” Jenny said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Mam was chasin’ him down, trying to get him into his clothes. All he kept saying was ‘no no no no’ over and over. He was just a streak of red hair and white arse, all about the house.”

Claire laughed heartily, also wiping at her face.

“That’s a wonderful story!”

“And no’ verra appropriate for the supper table, Janet,” Jamie said, his voice sharp.

“At least I didna tell her when Da bent ye o’er the fence post to tan yer backside, aye?” Jenny said, meeting his gaze in a challenge.

Jamie glared back at her. 

“Ye promised ye’d no’ speak a word o’ it. Or I’d tell Ian-”

“Dinna speak a word o’ that!” Jenny yelped, eyes wide.

Jamie smiled, catching Ian’s curious glance. Truthfully, Ian knew the ‘big secret’ already, had figured it out years ago, but Jenny didn’t need to know that.

“I’m sure that doesn’t need to be shared at the dinner table,” Claire said, catching the glances between everyone. 

“No,” Jenny said sharply. “It does not. And it doesna matter if ye recite the Lord’s Prayer in Latin all night, Jamie Fraser. I ken ye were thinkin’ about it just a moment ago.”

Finishing the last of the wine in his glass, he suppressed a chuckle. 

“Of course I was! What do ye expect, when ye bring up Da tanning my arse? That’s the best thing I’ve got against ye.”

Claire looked between the two of them. 

“No one would ever doubt you’re siblings,” she said. “Only siblings can fight like this.”

“Ye should see when they’re properly angry,” Ian said, leaning back in his chair, pushing his empty plate away. “Jenny start’s yellin’ at him for things he’s no’ even sayin’. It’s quite a thing to watch.”

“I can’t even imagine.”

Everyone fell silent, soft smiles on their faces. Jenny suddenly smiled.

“Claire, if ye want to ask, just ask. It willna offend anyone,” Jenny said.

Claire looked down sheepishly.

“Well… I was only wondering how Ian lost his leg. It’s a beautiful prosthetic you have.”

“Thank ye,” Ian said, sitting up a little. “It’s no’ as exciting as Nessie takin’ a bit o’ me wi’ her, ken. When I was born, my leg was atrophied. Doctors told my parents that it would never grow and could cause problems in future. So they had to amputate. I learned early on that if I made a joke of it first, I couldna be bullied so much. It doesna make people so uncomfortable either, if I can laugh about it.”

“It was atrophied? That’s fascinating. Do you know what the condition was called?”

Jamie patted her hand gently.

“I ken ye like things like this, Sassenach, but it unsettles some of us.”

“Have you got a weak stomach, Jamie Fraser?”

“When it comes to people I care about, aye, I do. Even clotheids like Ian here,” Jamie replied, raising a glass in his brother in law’s direction.

Ian smiled at Jenny and took her hand.

“I’m afraid it’s been a long day,” Jenny said, looking straight at her brother.

_ Shut. Up. Janet _ , he thought at her furiously. The quirk of the corner of her mouth told him she’d heard.

“Ian and I are heading up for the night. The laird’s bedroom is still yours, should ye... want it.”

“Thank you, Jenny,” Claire said. “That’s very kind of you.”

After his sister and brother in law disappeared upstairs, Jamie was left alone with Claire at the table.

Claire was the one to break the silence.

"Shall we go up to bed, then?”

Meeting her eyes, he watched them spark and smolder.

“To  _ bed _ ? Or… to  _ sleep _ ?” he asked, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly. 

Claire answered his smile with one of her own. 

“I’m not very tired at the moment. Are you?”

“No, I canna say I am just now.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Jamie take their relationship to the next level.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW. Very little plot development, nearly pure smut.

Lacing his fingers with hers, he led her to the stairs and up to the laird’s room. He’d rarely set foot in this room, it being his parents sanctuary when he was little. It looked almost the same, with only a few of the pictures on the walls changed. Claire closed the door behind them and took a deep breath as she looked around. 

“This whole place is full of history, isn’t it?” she asked, almost reverently. 

“Aye, it is.”

He watched her, how the light played off of the curves of her body, making the curls of her hair shine like a halo around her face. 

_ Mine _ , he thought suddenly, love and possessiveness and tenderness battling within him as she pushed herself away from the door and came to him. 

She stalked him like a predator stalks her prey, moving around him, making him feel naked under her gaze. A moment later, her arms were around his neck and her sweet mouth on his. Jamie thought it was another vision; surely something this divine couldn’t happen between two people. Yet here they were, utterly lost in pure bliss. 

He moved his hands from her waist to her ribs, then around her back to pull her even closer.  _ Christ, she was so small…  _

“It’s alright,” she whispered, her lips brushing his as she spoke, her hands running up and down his chest. Jamie swallowed, pulling back to look into her eyes. 

"Are ye sure?" he asked in a voice that didn't sound like his own. She looked at him then, eyes soft and dark. 

"Yes," she said, with absolute truth, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him again. 

"Wait," he said breathlessly, pulling her away with his hands on her arms. 

Claire looked at him curiously, but didn't try to come back and didn't appear hurt by his actions. She trusted him, then. He took a deep breath. 

"Claire, I need to tell ye something. And I ken it may change your mind a bit. About me. But I need to before… that is…”

She furrowed her brows, seeing he was serious. 

"What is it?" she asked, taking his hand and pulling him to sit on the side of the bed with her.

He took another long, steadying breath. 

"Jamie... have you never...?" she asked tentatively. His face flushed pink. 

"Well. No. I havena."

She smiled tenderly, squeezing his hand. 

"Do you trust me?"

He looked at her, letting every emotion he felt show on his face. 

"Aye," he said hoarsely, squeezing back. "More than anyone or anything. That's… that's why I must tell ye what I have to tell ye. Before, there was room for secrets, but no' for lies. Now… well now…” He took both of her hands in his then. "Now there's much more between us than all that. Do you agree?"

Claire's cheeks were pink and he could feel her pulse in her hands as he held them tightly. 

"Yes, I agree. I trust you. What is it you need to tell me?"

“Ye have a Gift, Claire, like my mam did. She was a healer, helped keep Da’s Gift from killing him. That’s why… After she died, he didna last long. We dinna ken why, but it seems for every Fraser with the Sight, like I have, there’s someone to heal them. Da had mam. And… I have you…”

He couldn’t look at her for the last bit. She’d been willing enough to come upstairs with him, shared the tight confines of the cave the night before. But this was different, this affected her directly. The bed shifted beside him and he forced himself to look up at her. She deserved his respect.

“So when you… When I found you in your panic room? And passed out at your table?”

“Aye, ye’d used your Gift. Made the migraine go away like it was never there.”

“Jamie why didn’t you tell me sooner? All of those migraines you’ve had! I could have helped you!”

The fingers of his left hand began twitching against his leg.

“Weel… I was selfish. I wanted ye to stay wi’ me because ye wanted  _ me _ . No’ because ye felt ye had an obligation to keep me alive. Murtagh wanted to tell ye as soon as we figured it out, but I told him he couldna. If anyone were to tell ye, it’d be me.”

She looked at him incredulously. 

"Selfish? You stubborn Scot, you could have killed yourself! And for what? To protect  _ me _ ?"

"Aye to protect you!" he responded firmly. "I wanted ye, Claire. I have, from the moment I laid eyes on ye. But... I've loved ye from the moment ye stayed wi' me and saved me in that panic room. Ye kept comin' back, despite the danger and... the vision of you..." 

He stopped, shaking his head. 

"I couldna ask ye to stay Claire."

She looked like a hawk, he thought, staring him down with those eyes and her chin held high. Then the chin trembled, and her eyes clouded over. 

"Well, I'm choosing to stay whether you ask me or not," she said defiantly, almost making him laugh and weep at the same time.

Silence fell for a moment.

"But... I would like it if you asked," she added softly.

Jamie could barely hear anything over the pounding of his heart. 

“Will ye stay wi’ me, mo nighean donn? Stay always by my side? Will ye have me in this state? Wi’ our lives at risk because of who and what I am?”

“Yes,” she said, barely more than a whisper. “Yes I’ll have you in any way I can. Wild horses couldn’t stop me.”

Then she brought her lips to his once more and he was utterly lost in pure bliss. It surprised him when her tongue touched his lips, warm and wet against his skin.

“It’s alright,” she whispered, her lips brushing his as she spoke. “I won’t bite.”

“I dinna ken…” he breathed, thrilling yet again that he could speak naturally around her.

One arm hooked around his neck as she moved her legs on either side of his thighs. Her free hand grasped one of his, which was clenched in a tight fist, and slid it over her body to rest on her backside.

“Just trust me." 

With a great effort, he forced his left hand to relax, stretching his fingers out over her perfectly rounded buttocks. His other arm snaked around her on pure instinct, drawing her body tight against his own as she squirmed against him. 

“Wait!” she said suddenly. 

He yanked his hands away before moving to catch her as she wobbled.

“What?”

“I don’t want to ruin anything. Will this… I mean if we… Will it do something to your, ah… Visions?”

Smiling smugly, he pulled her back into his arms and kissed her again. He was getting better, he thought. 

“Then we’ll both be damned if it does. Though Murtagh says he didna think it changed my da’s visions any. And ye ken they had three bairns. Even for a psychic, ye have to do some things the old fashioned way.”

Claire snorted and dropped her arms around his neck again, smiling coquettishly down at him.

“In that case… I’m at your mercy, Mr. Fraser.”

She began untucking his shirt, her cool fingers deftly working at his buttons. An involuntary flinch rippled over him when she made contact with his bare skin. 

“A little jumpy, are we?”

“I told ye, I’ve never…”

“Been undressed by a woman?”

Hooking a finger beneath her chin, he lifted her face to look into her eyes.

“No’ just a woman. A  _ beautiful _ woman, who has held my soul and healed my body.”

A warm, pleased smile pulled at her lips as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders. She moved her hands down his chest, but he caught them.

“Fair's fair,” he said huskily, reaching for the hem of her shirt.

“Christ, Claire,” he whispered as her shirt fell to the floor.

Jamie glanced up, but then placed a kiss on the pale skin over her heart. Claire shuddered and ran a hand through his hair. His lips moved up and down as he reached around, working at that damned contraption that hid her lovely breasts from him. It sprang free, and he took her nipple in his mouth, his body almost jerking at the soft moan that escaped her lips.

That was all the encouragement he needed. He kicked out of his own trousers, eagerly helped Claire with hers, and marveled at the feel of her ivory skin. Each part of her was soft to the touch, perfectly curved to fit in his hands - as if she’d been made only for him. 

He was at a complete loss about what to do with her now.  Ideas and half remembered visions raced through his mind, but he couldn’t settle on one long enough to make a choice.  His cock was stiff as a brass rod beneath his boxers, and she continued to kiss him in nothing but her panties.  Laying slowly back, he brought her down with him.

“You should ditch those,” she said, nodding down to his boxers. “Only getting in the way.”

She giggled and wiggled her hips suggestively against him, accentuating her point.

After some struggling, he finally kicked them off his foot. Feeling suddenly insecure, he searched her face for any sign of dislike or comparison. She’d had other lovers, he knew - both because she’d told him and because he’d seen some of them in unwanted visions - and he worried she’d compare his performance to theirs. 

“Don’t think so hard,” she said softly. 

“Ye dinna think…”

She shook her head, dark curls bouncing with the motion.

“I firmly believe there should only be two in a bed together, unless otherwise agreed upon. I won’t think of anyone else if you don’t think of your visions.”

“I won’t,” he replied, flipping her under him before she realized what was happening.

She pulled him by his ears and kissed him again. As she did, she backed herself further onto the bed, forcing him to crawl with her to maintain contact. When she reached the spot she’d wanted, she broke the kiss. But he wasn’t ready for that yet, moving his lips to her neck. He smiled when she made a pleased sound.

Still smiling, she drew his hand down to the elastic band. Slowly, she used his hands to push the last barrier between them away. Wanting to take in the full glory of her body, he scooted away and watched as she dropped it over the side of the bed.

Her fingers danced up and down his spine, sending out tendrils of tingling sensation in their wake. His own hands couldn’t settle on just one part of her, everything was there for him to worship. When her legs parted, he felt the heat of her. One leg hooked up over his hip, she reached between them and took hold of him. He took a sharp breath, locked in her gaze.

“No turning back now,” she said, voice pitched a little higher than usual. “Are you sure about this?”

“Aye,” he answered. “Are you?”

“I think I’ve been sure for a long time.”

Then, she guided him home. 

It was nothing like he’d expected. The intensity was much stronger than his visions had been. The heat of her felt as though it would burn him, but all he could do was draw himself closer. Her lips parted and she let out a sensual moan. He held still for a few moments, eyes closed, and let the new sensations wash over him. 

“Stop…” she panted. “Thinking. Just be  _ with _ me, Jamie. Feel me. Don’t think about it. Just do what your body is telling you to do.”

He kept his eyes shut tight, arms beginning to tremble. Then she swayed her hips, creating just a little friction.

“I dinna want to hurt ye. You’re just so small…”

“You won’t.  _ Please _ , Jamie…”

“I’m no’ sure I’ll be able to stop…”

Her tawny eyes opened and he saw nothing but trust in her gaze.

“Then don’t.”

Carefully, he pulled his hips back and pushed them forward. The way her lips curved into a smile gave him a small boost of confidence. This wasn’t complicated, it wasn’t something he had to decipher and understand. So he stopped thinking and let himself just be.

Though he was still a little worried he might hurt her, he started to move a little faster. One of her hands snaked up his back and tried to grip his hair. The other reached down and sank into his buttocks, making him lurch.

Whatever sound came from her mouth was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. Her face contorted and he repeated the lurch, eliciting another keening moan from her. A smile came to his own face, knowing he was pleasing her.

“ _ Yes… _ ” she purred, back arching and hips lifting in time with his. 

Her other leg came around his hip and locked around him, driving him harder. He had no idea making love to a woman would be so… noisy, but he wanted to hear her make all those noises again. He kissed her lips again, fiercely, then moved to the side of her neck. Claire made a small, deep noise that spurred Jamie on even more. Suddenly something changed, like the pressure that had been building in his balls was near the bursting point.

“Claire!” he cried, trying to be heard over the sounds they both made. “Claire I canna-”

“Don’t you bloody stop now!  _ Oh God! _ ”

Then her body gripped his, contracting around him as if trying to draw him deeper in. He, too, cried out as white-hot release washed over him.

They lay tangled together for some time, neither able to speak or break the spell that encased them. For a few moments, he kissed whatever part of her he could reach without moving more than his head. 

“Mo ghraidh,” he muttered. “Mo chridhe. Mo nighean donn.”

Claire pulled his face back to hers and kissed him slowly.

“Not bad for a rookie,” she said with a sated smile on her lips.

“Ye liked it, then?” he asked earnestly, softly brushing her hair from her face.

“Oh yes. I liked it very much, Jamie.”

He allowed himself a brief moment of proud satisfaction.

“And that… ah… The end?”

“Orgasm?” she asked, biting back a smile of amusement.

“Does that happen every time?”

With a pleased sigh, she stretched and shuddered at the reminder of their connection.

“No, not every time. It only happens if the man is a  _ very _ good lover.”

“Oh. I suppose that was good then?”

“Trust me,” she said, nudging him onto his side. “That was  _ very _ good.”

One last gentle kiss and she turned onto her side as well, her back to his chest. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

“Will you hold me?” came her quiet voice. “I feel safer in your arms.”

“Aye, mo ghraidh. I’ll hold ye.”

She yawned and snuggled down as he pulled the quilts up over them.

“Perhaps you and Murtagh can teach me some Gaelic later.”

“Aye,” he said, trying to imagine her speaking Gaelic. “Perhaps we shall.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after Jamie and Claire's first night together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. Smut follows.

Claire woke slowly, strong arms wrapped tightly around her. A large hand was cupped around one breast and she couldn’t help but grin. Having no desire to disturb his sleep, she simply cuddled a little closer and sighed.

“Are ye alright, Sassenach?”

She flinched a little, having not expected his voice.

“Oh! Yes, quite.”

His lips were gentle on her shoulder, kissing along it slowly. She shifted to lay flat on her back, looking up at him. The hair about his head was fluffy and sticking up in odd angles and she couldn’t resist the urge to touch it.

“You look happy,” she said, trying to smooth it down.

“I’m verra happy.”

“I’m so glad I found you.”

She searched his eyes, trying to read him and understand what he was feeling.

“Aye? You’re no’ cross wi’ me that I didna tell ye what ye were?”

Shaking her head, she sighed.

“No. I’m only upset that I could have been helping you all this time. I don’t know how it works, or how I use it. Does it only work on you?”

“I think so, but I dinna ken for sure.”

Her eyes wandered over his body, the parts of him that were exposed at least. When she began pushing the sheets down, he frowned at her.

“I want to look at you.”

Laying on his back, he allowed her to see every bit of him. She resisted the urge to pull the sheets up around herself, letting him do the same to her.

“You’re quite something, you know that?”

“I was thinkin’ the same about you, Sassenach.”

“Sassenach…” she frowned, having heard the word before. She may not be fluent in Gaelic (yet), but this one she knew. “That means… Outsider right? Someone who’s an outlander?”

The grin he gave her sent shudders down her spine. 

“Aye, that’s it. Do ye have the Gaelic, then?”

Shaking her head, she watched his hand drift up her thigh. His touch was like fire, the embers beginning to glow in her veins and settle in her belly.

“I don’t. But I’ve heard that one thrown around the hospital a bit. And a few others.”

He fell silent then, watching as his hands explored her body again. The nervous energy from the night before was mostly gone now and she felt giddy.

“You’ve the softest skin,” he whispered, almost reverently. “So smooth and white, like ivory. Touching ye is like touching silk. But you’re also warm.”

The hand that had been on her thigh moved around her hip and rested on her buttocks.

“And verra round,” he smirked.

As she looked over his body, she saw the pink healing scar from his stabbing. Jamie's hand stopped momentarily when he saw her looking at it and he gave her a soft squeeze of reassurance. 

The tension between them was almost palpable; Claire thought if she reached out for him, she'd be able to feel it as her hand traveled the space between them. She touched the scar gently, though she knew it wouldn’t hurt him anymore, and her breath hitched as his body shuddered in reaction. 

His touches, soft and reverent, were becoming more purposeful. She touched him in return, enjoying the way he responded to her. He rolled back toward her, gently easing her onto her back again as his lips explored her neck. Sudden as startled deer, Claire arched as Jamie stroked her, his mouth on her breasts.

"Christ Jamie," she whispered, voice high and breathless and he continued his assault on her senses.

“Ah,” he purred against her flesh. “That’s a new sound.”

“Wh-what?”

Her mind was growing fuzzy with the small bursts of pleasure surging through her.

“Do ye ken the noises ye make , when I take you? When I love you ?”

“I don’t make noise.”

A rather undignified grunt escaped her open mouth as his fingers began to probe her.

“Aye,” he said, voice smug. “Ye do. Ye made lots last night.”

“Oh,” she said. “Ooohh…”

His mouth moved lower as his hand continued its work; her body rising and falling under him.

“I wonder what other noises ye make.”

“I do not m-”

Her voice caught in her throat as his stroking became more insistent. So lost was she in the sensations that she didn’t realize his mouth had left her breast. It wasn’t until she felt his lips just below her belly button that she figured out what he was doing.

“Jamie, what-”

He silenced her question with a flick of his tongue and she cried out as the sudden shot of pleasure reverberated through her body. She looked down, seeing the blue of his eyes swirling in the darkest shades, staring intently back at her, watching her face as he worked. 

This was new and different and she felt more exposed than ever before but…

"Oh God!" she cried, slamming her palm against the headboard as Jamie wrapped both arms around her thighs and hips to hold her steady against him.

His pleased mumble had her legs churning as though she wanted to escape, but that was the last thing on her mind.

The build up inside her was reaching its breaking point when Jamie was suddenly gone. Claire whimpered at the sudden loss of contact and opened her eyes so see him crawling over her. She had time to register his heaving chest, trembling muscles, and smug smirk before he bit his lip and slammed his hips forward.

“Jesus H. Bloody CHRIST!”

“Jamie will do fine, lass,” he said hoarsely, lacing his fingers through hers as he moved, strong and unrelenting.

Claire could manage no more than a whimper in response before her senses dissolved. She held onto him, anchored by his hands in hers as her body convulsed again. 

"Claire," Jamie murmured, feeling her body's response to him, spurring him to his own completion.

He cried out, biting her neck as his body released, his sweat soaked body trembling as he lay over her.

For an eternity, they curled around each other, neither able to take a full breath. She couldn’t tell if the fluttering pulse she felt was her own or Jamie’s. 

“Bloody Roosevelt Christ,” she murmured, turning to kiss his neck, tasting of sweat.

“I agree,” he said, pushing off on trembling arms to lay beside her. “I didna hurt ye, did I?”

Finally forcing her eyes open, she met his gaze.

“No, certainly not. My God Jamie, where did you learn that?”

He smirked and kissed her for a long moment.

“I said I was a virgin, Claire. No’ a monk.”

“So, you’ve done that before, then?”

The tips of his ears turned bright pink.

“Och, weel… No. I only…  I… canna always control what I See, ye ken.” 

“Mmm. Psychic problems,” she quipped lowly, kissing him again. 

It was strange, to taste herself on his lips, but she didn’t mind it. Her body still shuddered at his touch, earning a smile from them both.

“Not a monk indeed,” her eyes closed a moment, letting the aftershocks roll through her. “I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

Opening her eyes, she watched the blue in his grow lighter.

“Oh? A first for ye, then?”

“Yes, it was.”

He pulled her against him, kissing her softly. Perfectly content, Claire rested her head on his chest. She was considering a nap when a loud ring interrupted their quiet bubble. Jamie grumbled and muttered something dark in Gaelic, leaning over the bed to grab at their clothes.

“That’s mine. I’m sorry.”

Jamie tossed her jeans to her and she dug out her cell phone. A few missed calls and several text messages greeted her.

“Hello?”

“Claire! Where the hell have you been?!”

“Oh, um…”

Claire felt a little guilty for not telling her best friend that she wouldn’t be home for a few nights.

“I’m sorry, Geillis. I didn’t think I’d be gone so long.”

“Where have you been? If you haven’t been sleeping in your own bed, or Frank’s, where have you been sleeping?”

Claire struggled to come up with a good answer. It didn’t help when Jamie began trailing kisses over her stomach. He made some guttural sound as he kissed her breasts again.

Geillis gasped.

“Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp! Are you with  _ a man _ ?!”

Heat flushed up Claire’s neck, turning her face crimson.

“That’s none of your business. I’m out and I’ll be home in a few days. I think. I’ll call you later, alright?”

“Claire, don’t you hang up on me! Who are you fu-”

Ending the call quickly, Claire dropped the phone onto the bed. Jamie, his mouth still attached to her breast, looked up at her in question.

“Just my roommate. She’s usually the one disappearing into some guy’s bed.”

His eyes narrowed and he sat up.

“Oh, so I’m ‘some guy’ now?”

“No,” she said, touching his cheek with a fond smile. “You’re mine.”

Turning his face, he kissed her palm. 

“Completely under yer power and happy to be there.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire gets more acquainted with Jamie's sister and learns more about her own Gift.

Jamie’s fingers moved deftly over her skin, seeking that secret spot he knew was there. Finding it, he had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep her squeals of laughter from waking the whole house.

“I kent ye were ticklish.”

“You bastard! Did you cheat?!”

Hand over his heart like she’d mortally wounded him, he gave her a pained look.

“Ye think I would use my Sight just to See if ye have a tickle spot? What sort of man do ye think I am?”

“A determined one,” she said, trying to slide away from him.

But he chased her across the bed, pinning her beneath him. His kiss was warm and soft and inviting. As his body settled above hers, she heard feet on the creaking wood. Jamie heard the feet too and groaned.

“Jamie!” came Jenny’s voice from down the hall. “How long does it take a person to dress?! Breakfast willna keep!”

“I suppose we should get up for breakfast,” he mumbled against her neck.

With a groan, he rolled off Claire, hearing the smile in Jenny’s voice. Claire sat up and looked at the door.

“Does… Does she…?”

“Aye, she does.”

Claire’s face flushed deep red, eyes going wide.

“Oh…”

“Dinna fash, Sassenach,” he said, kissing her forehead. “She willna say anything.”

Claire closed her eyes, forcing the embarrassment down.

“How am I supposed to  _ not _ think about it?” she asked. “She’ll be getting a play by play all through breakfast.”

Jamie paused his movements, sitting on the end of the bed. Looking over his shoulder at her, he smiled.

“I memorized the Lord’s Prayer in Latin for just that reason. Perhaps ye can recall something medical? Jenny willna Listen to that.”

For a moment, she felt incredibly shy, nearly pulling the sheet off the bed with her. But if Jamie was comfortable walking around the room in just his skin, she could be too.  There was no reason for her to feel that way, given what had happened the night before. The newness of the relationship, and the intensity of it, still caught her off guard.

Digging through her bags, she got dressed in comfortable jeans and a t-shirt. Instinctually, she began the daily fight with her hair, trying to smooth it down. She’d packed her comb, hadn’t she? Perhaps Jamie had one she could borrow.  Turning to look for one, she saw him watching her. He rose from the bed and stood close to her, gently taking her hands and lowering them. 

"Leave yer curls be," he said, fluffing them back up and smiling. "Ye've the most beautiful hair, mo chridhe."

His arms came around her waist as he buried his face in her hair. A smile came to her lips as she leaned against him.

“Can we just stay here?” she asked quietly, looking up at him.

“No’ if ye dinna want Jenny to come back up and throw the door open.”

With a heavy sigh, she pulled out of his arms and opened their door.

“I suppose we should go, then.”

Lacing their hands together, they headed down the stairs, following the smells of breakfast. Jenny didn’t say a word when they walked into the room, but Jamie didn’t miss the pleased smirk on her face.

_ Behave yerself, Janet, or I WILL tell Ian- _

“So, Claire. How did ye get into the medical field?” Jenny asked, interrupting his thought, though her cheeks had a faint pink tinge.

“Oh,” Claire said, pouring herself some coffee. “Well, I sort of just knew, I suppose.”

“Knew?”

Jamie watched her, curious to learn the answers as much as Jenny and Ian were.

“Well… I’m not sure exactly when it started, but I was young. It’s like… It’s almost like I can  _ feel _ what’s wrong with someone. Nothing specific. My instructors said I had good instincts.”

“How young, exactly?” Jenny asked casually.

Jamie shot her a glance, but she was busy spooning eggs onto her plate.

“Goodness… I must have been… Eleven? I’m not sure, really. My uncle said I started trying to diagnose people at a young age. I told him about the arthritis in his knee before he went to see his doctor.”

“That’s amazing,” Jamie said in awe. “Ye kent at eleven that yer uncle had arthritis?”

Claire shook her head, taking a drink of her coffee.

“Not exactly. I knew there was something… not right. His knee wasn’t… It didn’t  _ feel _ the way it was supposed to, on the inside.”

Ian sat forward.

“So how does that work when ye cut someone open in surgery?”

Claire thought for a few minutes, taking a nibble of her food here and there.

“Two weeks ago, I had a simple appendix removal, something I’ve done before. But as soon as I…” she trailed off, looking at the faces around the table. “Um… Once the procedure had begun, I knew something was wrong. None of the scans had shown anything wrong, but I felt it. She had a rupture. If I hadn’t found it, if I hadn’t  _ felt _ it and repaired it, she would have died.”

“Once ye started, ye just kent she had a rupture?”

Shaking her head again, she squeezed her eyes shut.

“No, it’s nothing that specific. But when I’m touching someone, if I just close my eyes… I can feel how the body is  _ supposed _ to go together. How each muscle is woven together, the ligaments and bones, each piece like a perfectly formed puzzle. I can feel when something isn’t as it should be. The pieces don’t fit together, they aren’t smooth. That’s…” her eyes opened to survey everyone. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

“No,” Jamie said in hushed tones. “No, Claire. Ye dinna need to apologize for that. No’ ever. That’s yer Gift.”

“What?” Claire asked blankly, looking at the knowing faces around the table.

“Yer Gift,” he repeated, a tender smile on his lips. 

Breakfast continued on with minimal conversation. Jamie shoveled food into his mouth like it was the first hot meal he’d had in days. For all Claire knew, it was.

“So,” Ian said, collecting their empty plates. “Have ye any plans today, Claire?”

“I was thinkin’ about showin’ her around the estate. She’s seen the house, but I thought she might like to see the Fraser lands.”

“The laird’s room, in particular,” Jenny chuckled quietly.

“Oh I’d love that, Jamie,” Claire smiled. “I should just call Geillis first.”

Jenny sat up, all sense of humor dropping away as her eyes focused on Claire.

“Geillis?”

“My roommate. She called this morning when-” Claire abruptly stopped, her face flushing. 

Jenny gave a coy, knowing smile and nodded. Claire’s thoughts wandered to Geillis and the man she’d brought back a few times. Suddenly Jenny sat forward.

“Who was that? Do ye ken that man?” she asked seriously.

“What?”

“The man ye were just thinkin’ of.”

Claire blinked, trying to backtrack her train of thought.

“Oh… Well… yes, I mean. No. Not really. My roommate brought him home a few times and…” Claire blushed, thinking of the last time she’d encountered Geillis’ latest conquest. 

She looked down, not wanting to meet Jenny’s eyes as the unwanted memory rolled through her mind.

_ Don’t tell him, _ she thought wildly.  _ I promise I will, but please not now… _

“Claire?” Jamie asked hesitantly.

“She kens who Dougal is. He’s been at her flat wi’ her roommate,” Jenny said abruptly, eyes still on Claire.

Ian sat straighter, looking from Jenny to Jamie.

Claire felt the tension through Jamie’s hand on her arm, his carefully controlled emotions betrayed by a slight tremor. Jenny glanced sharply up at him.

“D’ye think that’s possible?” she asked, brows raised. “How would he ken?”

“This Dougal,” Claire interrupted, heart pounding heavily. “What does he want with Jamie?”

Jenny opened her mouth to answer, but didn’t get the chance. Everyone at the table jumped as the front door of the house slammed open, the pictures on the wall shuddering with impact.

“JANET! IAN! Jamie’s no’ in the cave! We need to-”

Murtagh came into the room like a bat out of hell, his eyes frantic. Until he saw Jamie sitting at the table.

“What the bloody hell d’ye think yer doin’ in the house, ye wee idiot?! D’ye want to get yerself captured?!”

“Murtagh…”

“Oh, I’ll listen to ye, Murtagh, he says. I’ll stay out o’ sight, he says. And here ye are, just-”

“Murtagh!” The Frasers said together.

It was only then that he took a moment to look around the whole table. When his eyes landed on Claire, they went wide. 

“You behave, Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser,” Jenny barked. “Claire is here at our invitation. She came here beggin’ me to tell her how to find Jamie.”

“Is that so?” he said, turning to Claire. “Have ye come to stay, then?” 

She nodded, taking Jamie’s hand.

“Yes, I have. I had to, I…” she paused, then smiled tenderly at Jamie. “I know what I am now. What  _ we _ are.”

“Thank. GOD. It’s abou’ time ye wised up, ye wee gomeral,” he said to Jamie, sitting down and piling food onto an empty plate.

“Aye,” his godson replied ruefully.

“So, what’s to do then?” Murtagh asked, taking a large bite.

“Claire kens Dougal,” Jenny said promptly, causing Murtagh to spit out the bite he’d just taken.

Claire swallowed as all eyes turned to her. Murtagh stared at her, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

“Ye ken Dougal?”

“I… Only in passing. My roommate brought him home a time or two.”

Jamie’s hand on hers squeezed as Murtagh kept looking at her.

“Jamie was wonderin’ the same thing. How would he ken it, though?” Jenny asked, picking up on whatever Murtagh and Jamie had apparently been thinking.

They seemed to have half a conversation for a few minutes, leaving Claire lost. She began to worry that she’d done something wrong. What if Dougal had followed her? What if he found Jamie? If she put Jenny and Ian in danger because of her own stupidity, she’d never forgive herself.

***

Jamie looked at Claire’s face and saw how worried she’d become. Jenny was having her strange partial conversation with Murtagh.

_ Janet! _

Her eyes locked on his and she frowned in question.

_ Claire doesna ken who Dougal is to us, what he wants. I’m going to take her to the sitting room and talk wi’ her. There’s still a lot she doesna ken. _

Jenny nodded and looked back at Murtagh. She would keep him busy and give Jamie time to slip away with Claire. Leaning close to her, he whispered in her ear.

“Come wi’ me.”

She got up with him and Jamie glared hard in response to Ian’s smirk. Claire walked with him to the sitting room, watching him curiously.

“Was it always like that with her? Having half a conversation?”

Jamie laughed.

“Aye. Hang about long enough and you’ll get use to it.”

Claire sat on a couch and Jamie joined her.

“I think ye need to ken about Dougal. Ye decided to stay wi’ me and ye need to ken what that includes.”

“Please. Roosevelt Christ, if I put your family in danger, I’d never forgive myself.”

“He’s my uncle, ken? My mam’s brother. He, ah… Weel, he believes in a free Scotland. The government wants to use my Gift for it’s own gains, and so does he.”

Claire looked intent for a minute, thinking hard about something.

“I didn’t tell him about you. I only saw him twice I think. And you know I’ve kept it from Geillis. I’d never-”

“Of course not, Sassenach. I trust ye. Jenny trusts ye too or she’d never have taken ye out to my cave. Dougal being around ye is probably just a coincidence.”

“But if he knows who your family is, wouldn’t he have Lallybroch under surveillance? Oh God… Have I brought him here?!”

“Ye havena done anything wrong,” he said consolingly, cupping her cheek. “No one regrets ye comin’ here. No one.”

Claire swallowed back her fear, seeing complete truth in his eyes. She nodded and his hand on her face relaxed. 

“What exactly does he want from you? What does he want you to See?”

Jamie sighed.

“Weel… He thinks if I Look in just the right place, or at just the right person, he’ll discover how to free Scotland. So he can decide who’s a true member of the cause and who isna. Get the advantage o’er an enemy but having me See their plans. Anything he thinks will gi’ him an edge in this ‘war’.”

“Does he know what it does to you? To See?”

Jamie shook his head.

“Nay. Only the family kens what happens to those who See. There hasna been a Listener in some time, so we dinna ken exactly what’s in store for Jenny later on.”

Claire smiled softly at him. 

“I suppose I’m family, then?”

Now Jamie smiled, leaning over to kiss her.

“Aye, ye are. Claire, I… I need to See. We need to ken where Dougal is, if he’s found me.”

“Alright. Before you do that, let me call Geillis. Don’t you dare start Looking without me. I don’t know how this bloody Gift works, but I’ll not let you hurt yourself while I’m right here.”

“Ye have my word, Sassenach.”

Claire pulled her phone from her pocket and walked to a corner.

***

“Have you finally put the boy toy down?”

“Geillis,” Claire said in exasperation. “That’s not-”

“You were with a man and you can’t lie to me over the phone. I always know when you’re lying.”

_ Not always… _

“Look, I probably won’t be home for a few more days. I need… time. After breaking up with Frank. I need to figure out who I am without him.”

The woman on the other end sighed heavily.

“Alright. I suppose that makes sense. Frank was a big part of your life for a long time. I understand you need space. Just tell me where you are?”

“I’m…” Claire looked over at Jamie, who’s eyes were closed and a smile on his full lips. “I’m where I need to be, I think. I’ll call you later.”

“Have fun with that man toy you found.”

Rolling her eyes, Claire ended the call and turned the phone off. Jamie glanced over at her and his smile grew.

“Don’t tell me you can read minds too.”

“No. But everything ye think is written across yer face.”

At that, her face flushed red and she looked away.

“Well I hope not  _ everything _ .”

Before Jamie could reply, a knock came at the door.

“Jamie, lad,” Murtagh said, letting himself in. “If she kens Dougal-”

“Aye. I need to See if he’s about.”

“I was thinkin’... Claire, ye havena used yer Gift  on purpose before. Ye need to build stamina wi’ it. I think, if Jamie only Looks a bit, ye can help wi’ the migraine after. Maybe even keep the nosebleed from happening.”

Claire took her place beside Jamie,  sitting and taking the hand he offered her .

“I’ll certainly try. I don’t really know how I made it work.”

“That’s what we’ll help with,” Jamie said. 

Jenny came around the corner as well and perched on the arm of the couch.

“Didna ken my Seeing required the entire family…” Jamie muttered.

“Aye, weel, I ken what the migraines do to ye after. I’m here to see what you See, pass on what information I can.”

“Fine. Just… Keep quiet, aye? I canna focus if ye all putter about and make a racket.”

Everyone fell silent and Jamie’s eyes closed. For a moment, nothing happened. But as Claire watched, his brows drew together. She reached out and held his face, but that didn’t seem to help. What had she done last time?

Without thinking, her hands moved to spread her fingers over the top of his head. A disorienting rush of energy [moved] out of her and Jamie’s face relaxed. Claire opened her eyes and met Jamie’s. The blue swirled so darkly they almost looked black.

“That was…” she trailed off, unsure how to finish her statement.

“That was incredible.”

“Aye, that may be,” Jenny said shortly. “But ye didna See anything of use.”

Jamie’s hand moved to Claire’s thigh, squeezing gently.

“Are ye alright, Sassenach?”

“Yes, I feel fine. I felt the energy leave, but I don’t feel like I’m going to pass out.”

“Then Look again,” Murtagh barked. “We need to ken what to do next.”

Claire glared at the scruffy man. He was sounding like the people that wanted to use Jamie. 

“It’s alright,” Jamie said softly, just to her. “He’s only doing his job. It isna for his gain, but to keep me safe.”

After a moment, she nodded and he closed his eyes again. It felt longer, like he was Looking further and deeper than he had before. When he began to show signs of pain again, she repeated her earlier motions and was rewarded with a rush of energy. She didn’t recover as quickly this time and Jamie’s breathing was a little heavier.

“I dinna want to push ye,” he said. “We should stop. Ye dinna have the stamina yet.”

“Jamie, all ye saw was Dougal in a car. That doesna tell us anything.”

He waved his hand in dismissal.

“No,” Claire said. “No you need to See to keep yourself and your family safe. The best way for you to do that is for me to get better at making sure you stay alive. I’ll be fine. Just Look.”

He looked at her briefly, assessing. Then, he dove back in once more. Almost immediately his face contorted in pain. She hadn’t been ready for that. Every other time, it had taken a moment or two before he’d needed her Gift.

His hand on her leg suddenly clutched her, hard enough she knew she’d have bruises. The free hand went to his head, pulling at his hair. He bit down on his lip and his entire body became as hard as stone.

Claire’s hands were on his head like before, but nothing seemed to be happening. Closing her eyes, she focused on him. There was a subtle  _ wrongness _ in his head that she tried to set to rights. Ignoring the fuzzy feeling inside her own head, she pushed more  _ something _ into Jamie.   
  
"Claire!" she heard Jenny say.   
  
"I'm... trying," she gasped, holding him tighter. 

She could feel her body going under, see spots in her vision. Most of all, she could feel Jamie starting to thrash, hear him bite back a cry. 

_ No! _

“Claire, ye need to get him out. Now!”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire learns more about her Gift and maybe someone who can help.

He was in deep - too deep - and he knew it. It was foolish to have looked into his own future. That was a rule Da had always had -  _ never _ See into your future,  _ never _ Look there.

Jamie knew it would happen somehow, could feel Claire tiring as the pain in his head increased with every heartbeat. Then, suddenly, he was pulled from the scattered visions in a burst of white light. He gasped and shook, blinking as he saw her face swimming before him. He tried to talk to her, tell her she'd done it, but his body wasn't cooperating. Then, she was gone. He felt her falling, reached out and caught her before she could hit the floor. 

"Claire. Claire!" he cried, clutching her tight as nausea rolled through him. 

He felt someone grab him, keeping him from falling himself. Ian had come in at some point. 

“Jamie, let go. It's alright lad. Breathe,” Murtagh said as he slowly took Claire from him and laid her on the couch. 

Ian helped Jamie to his own feet and held tight to him while he swayed. Before he could pass out or throw up, he was pushed into a chair where he closed his eyes and fought to keep his breakfast down.

He opened his eyes again to see Jenny kneeling down, checking Claire’s pulse. His sister exhaled, then looked up at him. 

“It's alright. She’ll be alright. Ian, grab a cool cloth will ye?”

Ignoring Ian’s yelp of concern, Jamie pushed himself off the chair and went to sit on the floor beside the couch. Claire’s face was pale, her hand cold when he took it. He had a sudden flashback of the vision he'd had of her. But no, there was no blood. Not yet. 

“Are ye alright Jamie?” Jenny asked, touching his arm. 

All he could do was nod, not looking at her. His heart leapt to his throat when Claire started to stir, her eyebrows furrowing. He clutched her hand to his chest, leaning over to watch her amber eyes open slowly. For a moment, Jamie was afraid she didn't know who he was. Until..

“Jamie, your face,” she said, lifting her other hand to touch the blood that ran down his chin. 

“I’m fine, mo chridhe. Christ ye gave me such a fright. Are ye alright?”

“I’m fine,” she said, shaking her head. The movement stopped abruptly and she winced. “But you’re getting blood all over the floor.”

A wad of tissue filled his vision and Jamie took it. Ian returned with a cool, damp cloth and put it over Claire’s forehead. Jamie began mopping up the blood on his face, but Claire took the tissue from him and finished the job.  Her hand was steady and gentle, but firm enough to complete her task.

“Wh…” she took another breath. “What the hell just happened?”

“Ye got stuck, ye fool,” Jenny barked at him . “What were ye thinkin’?! Lookin’ into yer own future? Ye kent that was a rule of Da’s. Willie damn near beat it into yer thick heid!”

“Janet, dinna yell just now, aye?”

She huffed behind him.

“Either I yell at ye or I smack ye in the head.”

“Did you See anything helpful, at least?” Claire asked, her eyes shut tight against her exhaustion.

“I’m no’ sure yet. I need to think about it a bit, sort through what I Saw.”

Claire’s eyes were beginning to droop.

“And you’re sure you’re alright? Has… Has the bleeding…” she yawned. “Stopped?”

“Aye, mo chridhe, the bleeding has stopped. Get some rest, aye?”

“Just don’t… Look again until I’m… better.”

Jamie huffed a quiet laugh.

“Ye have my word.”

Then she dropped off into a heavy sleep. Jamie stood, leaning on Ian for support.

“Murtagh, I canna take her wi’ me upstairs. But I’ll no’ leave her to wake alone.”

“Aye, Jamie. I’ll carry her upstairs.”

With the help of his best friend, Jamie stumbled up the stairs and into the laird’s bedroom. He collapsed onto the bed and was only vaguely aware of Murtagh setting Claire down beside him  before fatigue took him under.

***

Claire woke groggy and confused, and somehow still exhausted. Jamie lay sprawled out beside her, mouth open as he slept.  Her mind pieced the events of the morning together and she gazed at him, making sure he was alright. As much as she wanted to touch him, she didn't dare wake him up after what he'd gone through . It looked like he hadn’t started bleeding again, so she got off the bed and slipped out of the room.

She’d fainted.  _ Again _ . How the hell was she supposed to help Jamie if using her Gift knocked her out? On top of all that, she’d failed and fainted in front of Jamie’s entire family. Humiliation was never something she’d handled well.

Down the hall, she heard Murtagh’s deep voice, mixing with Jenny and Ian’s. She couldn’t face them yet, couldn’t see the disappointment in their eyes. Instead, she shut herself in the study, surrounding herself with books that wouldn’t look at her with pity.

As she inspected them closer, she realized they weren’t published works. Each had a range of dates on them, written by hand. The leather binding intrigued her and she picked one off the shelf at random. Inside the cover was a name she recognized, written in a beautifully, swooping script. 

_ William Fraser _

She touched the writing gently, wishing she’d been able to meet Jamie’s older brother. Curious, Claire turned the pages and read through Willie’s journal. It was a collection of visions, theories, and personal entries.

_ I worry for my brother. Da isn’t doing well. Murtagh says he won’t last the month and I know he’s right. Jamie is still so young to have such a Gift and I worry it will consume him. Even now I work to find someone to help him, some healer somewhere that might be able to keep him alive. There is a rumor of a man- _

The door opened suddenly and Murtagh stood in the doorway. Claire hastily wiped her face -  _ when had she started crying?  _ \- and looked up at him. He looked unhappy.

"Ye need to be better, lass," he said.   
  
"I know that!" she snapped, rounding on him. "Do you think I'm not aware that if I can't get my fucking act together, I'll lose him?"   
  
Murtagh gave her a hard look, then nodded, his features softening a little.    
  
"Aye. I ken ye know that. My apologies."

“I thought I would lose him today,” she said, quietly. “I don’t know how to use this Gift or how far I can push myself. I could feel him slipping… I thought I couldn’t do it.”

With a sigh, Murtagh sat down in the chair opposite her.

“Aye. He’s like a son to me, Jamie is. I saw him slippin’ and… Weel, it isna yer fault. I shouldna ha’ spoken to ye so.”

Claire looked down at her clasped hands, remembering how it had felt to hold Jamie while he shook. Tears slid down her cheeks again and she brushed them away. She  _ hated _ crying.

“Ach,” Murtagh said suddenly. “Ye didna rest as much as ye needed. Here, have a dram o’ whisky.”

She looked up to see him remove a large book and pull a bottle from behind it. A set of glasses came from behind another book and he poured them both a generous drink.

“This is the good stuff. Brian’s favorite. There isna much o’ it left, but he hid bottles all about the house. Drink up, lass. It’ll help wi’ the shakes.”

Taking a tentative sip, she hummed in pleasure. It was  _ very _ good whisky. 

“Clearly you’ve done this before,” she observed, raising her glass to him.

Murtagh nodded, settling himself into the chair again.

“Aye. More so in the last two years or so.”

“This has been hard on you.”

Again, the scruffy Scotsman nodded, staring into the bottom of his glass. 

“Just before he left to meet ye,” he said slowly. “He had a vision. One he didna Look for, it just came. I heard him screamin’, so I ran to see what was the matter. He was nearly pullin’ the hair out o’ his head by the time I got up there. I did the best I could to help him, but… I kent the look on his face.”

Claire sat up, watching Murtagh carefully.

“Like Brian?”

“Aye. He wouldna let me call ye, or I would have. I’d do anything to keep him safe. When I realized he wasna in the cave and I saw ye sittin’ there at the table… Ye can keep him alive, in a way I canna. I’ve never been so scared in all my life as I was when I woke him from that vision.”

Claire was silent for a long time. For a man like Murtagh to admit that something had scared him was big. She recognized that he was showing her his soft center and accepted the peace offering for what it was. 

“I want to help more. I know I have this Gift, but I don’t know how use it or even how to make it happen. Sometimes I feel like I’m pushing too much energy for only a small pain. I just don’t  _ understand _ it.”

Murtagh’s eyes lifted from his glass and glossed over the notebook sitting open in front of Claire. His gaze sharpened and he sat up, whisky forgotten.

“Is that one o’ Willie’s?”

“What? Oh, yes. I’m sorry, I was just sort of drawn to it.”

Murtagh spun it around and read the passage she’d been in the middle of. 

“Have ye finished this?”

“Not yet. You sort of kicked the door in and yelled at me.”

“After Brian died, Willie was on a mission to find a healer for Jamie. He kent that Jamie’s Gift was much stronger than his own, that it would move faster, hurt him sooner. Bloody fool ignored his own problems to find a healer, someone wi’ a specific Gift.”

Claire’s eyes looked down at the book, curious. What secrets did it hold?

“Did he find anyone? Could… If he’d found me sooner, could I have saved him?”

Murtagh sighed.

“I dinna ken that, but he did find someone. It was too late for the lad,” he said, voice catching in his throat. “But I think this man might be able to help ye wi’ yer Gift.”

“Who is it? And where?”

“His name is Master Raymond and I ken just where to find him.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire recover from using their Gifts.

The bed beneath him moved and he forced his eyes open. Claire settled herself in beside him, sighing and relaxing into the mattress.

“Sassenach?”

“Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Are ye alright?”

When she didn’t turn to look at him, he sat up and tugged gently on her shoulder. She lay on her back, meeting his eyes with her red and puffy ones.

“What’s the matter, a nighean?” he asked gently, brushing at her cheeks though the tears had clearly dried.

“Nothing.”

He pursed his lips.

“Dinna lie to me.”

She looking down, nervously wringing the sheets between her fingers. 

“I’m… I’m just frustrated, is all. I can’t control this Gift and I’m not helping you.”

“Och dinna fash, lass. It takes time, ken? Ye havena kent about this Gift for long. I have faith in ye.”

She let out a sigh, seeming to relax even more, and kissed him.

“Thank you. That was exactly what I needed to hear.”

“That I have faith in ye? Surely ye have faith in yourself.”

Her head shook and he lay down beside her, pulling her close.

“Not really. Not for this, anyway. I have faith in my ability as a doctor, as a surgeon. But this is different.”

“Aye, it is. But we dinna need to worry about that for a while yet. For now, I think we both need rest. Ye still look too pale.”

She sighed, reaching for him. 

“How’s your head? Does it still hurt?”

“No’ a bit,” he said, putting down the hand she’d placed on his temple. 

Since she’d returned to him, he craved her touch. But he worried that she’d try to use her Gift again if she left her hand on his head. After a moment, she gave in and curled against him, her head on his chest. Tired as he still was, he waited until she was soundly asleep before allowing himself to rest again.

***

Jamie was warm and solid against her, reassuringly alive. Even in her sleep, she knew he’d wrapped his arms around her. Falling into a deep sleep usually didn’t give her dreams, but tonight wasn’t a normal night.

_ “I love ye,” he said, his voice gruff. _

_ “And I, you,” she whispered back. _

_ Worry and fear clenched her heart. She should go, shouldn’t let herself stay with him. It would only hurt him more. But… He was the air she breathed, the beat of the heart in her chest. Leaving him would be like trying to live as half a person. _

_ “Hush now, mo ghraidh. Ye needn’t worry o’er me so much. I’ll take care of us both.” _

_ “I know, my love,” she answered, allowing herself to be towed behind him. _

_ As soon as he’d picked a direction, she knew where they were headed. Back to that spot, to that place that belonged to them. The rowan tree stood tall and graceful, offering a peaceful place for the lovers. Her chest ached with the knowledge that this would be goodbye and she was the only one who knew it. _

_ “Have I ever told ye,” he asked, arms around her waist. “How beautiful ye are?” _

_ “Oh, you might’ve mentioned it a time or two.” _

_ “Breathtaking as an angel, wi’ skin soft as silk and white as ivory. I dinna ken what twist of fate brought us together, but I’m verra thankful for it.” _

_ Each word cut into her as sharp as the dirk at his side. In an effort to cease his speaking, she kissed him. It was a bad idea, she knew. But she wouldn’t be able to leave if he kept telling her how much he loved her.  _

_ As she expected, he clung to her, deepening their kiss and pulling at the ties of her stays. He lay her down in the soft grass, sprinkling kisses over the skin of her neck and chest. She felt his need as strongly as her own. The thick wool of his kilt scratched against her thighs and desire, mixed with instinct, had her legs parting.  _

_ His mouth latched onto her breast while his hand drifted downward. She gasped and shuddered, her fingers running through his soft curls. _

_ “Oh my love,” she breathed, her back arching as his finger delved into her. _

Claire woke panting, her body tingling with remembered sensation. A soft sucking sound had her looking down to see Jamie’s head. She frowned at the red mop, trying to figure out what was happening.

Her body lurched when the finger inside her curled ever so slightly.

“Jesus H. Bloody Christ!”

Jamie’s head jerked up, releasing his hold on her nipple. He blinked sleepy eyes at her, though his hand remained as it had been.

“Claire?”

Not trusting herself to speak, she opened her legs a little wider, deciding not to worry about where her trousers had gone.

“I take it you Saw that too?” she asked, voice shaking.

“Christ, I’m sorry,” he said, pulling his hand back. “I didna ken what I was doing until-”

She made a soft cry when he left her.

“Come back to me,” she pleaded. 

Jamie's face went from apologetic to dark in a moment, his eyes churned deep blue, shot with a shade so pale it was nearly silver, as he did as she asked. Claire sighed as he stroked her again, emotional tears from the vision coming unbidden. 

"I See ye, Claire," he whispered, palming her breast with his free hand. "Yer hair about yer face, lying in the grass."

"She was so scared for him," she choked, seeking to touch him, feeling him there. 

"Aye, and he for her."

They both fell quiet, allowing the strange emotions from the shared vision move through them.    
  
"As I am, for you, mo nighean donn," he added quietly, removing his hand and reverently moving over her.    
  
"If I could lie here.."   
  
Claire sighed, opening more for him.    
  
"Over ye, within ye.." he continued, cradling her face in his hands as he slid home. "Then, I'd ken always that ye were safe."

“Do you think I feel any differently?” she asked, meeting his movements. 

His hips rolled harder,  seeing the truth in her eyes . She saw his face grimace in pain as he tried to hide from her, burying his face in her hair with each thrust. Claire knew better.

"Look at me," she coaxed, desperate. "I want to see you. Look at me."

She grasped his face in her hands and he looked at her, his soul bared. His eyes opened to the depths of his soul, the sparking blue hiding nothing from her sight. He was love and lust and strength. He was everything.

"Jamie," she whispered as he pushed against her, his brow slightly creased in pain. "Jamie," she said again, back arching into him. 

His pulsing rhythm continued, rolling Claire with him as his eyes Saw her then and now. He made a small noise as they neared the end and Claire gripped his head as her own senses dissolved into bursts of light and color, bringing him with her as she healed him.

Jamie held her, trembling as his senses came back to him. Claire shakily tucked a strand of sweaty hair behind his ear, the point of their connection throbbing as he pulled her even tighter against himself. 

_ Mine, _ the action said.  _ Mine to love. Mine to protect. Mine. _

_ “ _ Ye shouldna have done that, Claire,” he mumbled, breath catching as she traced his lips with her fingertips. She smiled softly, eyes hooded from lovemaking and tiredness. 

“I’m alright. Are you? Did it… did it work?”

“Aye. Christ, that… I’ve never felt… so  _ much _ . To See. To touch ye. To feel ye heal me…” 

Jamie swallowed. 

“To truly be whole?” she asked, eyes shining. 

“Aye,” he breathed, kissing her neck. “Neither of us is truly whole wi’out the other, are we?”

Claire nudged him, moving with him to lay on their sides, her leg still hooked over his hip to keep him close.

“No, we aren’t,” she agreed softly.

Bodies and souls intertwined, they both fell into deep, dreamless sleep.

***

Claire heard the distinct growl of a dragon as her eyes opened. When it rumbled again, she sat up and looked around. Laughing, she looked down to see she’d been resting on Jamie’s stomach.

“Hungry, are you?”

He moaned and kept his eyes closed, but she saw the corners of his mouth twitch.

“A bit.”

“I’m not sure what time it is, but I think we could whip you up a fine Scottish breakfast.”

The hand that had been resting on her backside squeezed and she smiled.

“I think I prefer my breakfast a bit more…  _ English _ .”

His stomach made another loud protest and he sighed.

“Delightful as that may be,” she said through a laugh. “I’m afraid your stomach doesn’t agree.”

A quiet buzz had them both looking to the bedside table. The cell Murtagh had given him lit up and vibrated. Claire readjusted herself while Jamie picked the phone up.

_ If you’re both awake, text me back and I’ll bring lunch up. Murtagh’s gone out to make arrangements. _

“Who’s that?”

“Jenny,” Jamie said, tapping a reply.

_ I’m afraid I’ll take a bite out of Claire if we don’t eat something soon. _

Claire snorted at his answer to his sister.

“I think you’ve already done that,” she said quietly, kissing him softly. “But if your sister is going to be bringing us food, I’d rather her not see us like this.”

He patted her rump and let her up. She shimmied back into her knickers and pulled on Jamie’s shirt. He, however, made no move to dress, simply pulled the sheets up to cover him a little more. A knock came at the door while Claire tried to fix her hair.

“Let them be,” he scolded, forcing her hands away. “I told ye I like yer hair. It’s open, Jenny.”

The door swung open and Jenny came in, followed by Ian, both carrying trays piled with food.

“Glad to see ye both awake. I ken Jamie was always verra hungry after a Seeing like the one yesterday. And wi’ all the work ye did, Claire, I thought ye might be as well.”

Claire met Ian’s eyes for a moment and he grinned at her like a cat in the cream. She flushed and looked hastily down.

“We’ll leave ye be,” Jenny said, smiling at the both of them. “Just gi’ us a ring if ye need anything else.”

“Thank you, Jenny,” Claire said. 

Jenny’s eyes turned serious for a moment.

“Ye’ve saved my brother,” she said. “It’s me who should be thanking you.”

Ian squeezed her shoulder and steered her out. But not before he threw another knowing grin at them just before he closed the door.

Once they were alone together again, Jamie pushed the sheets away and put his feet on the floor. With a groan, he stood and went to the table where the trays had been put. Claire took the opportunity to feast her eyes on his body, taking in the graceful curves of his muscles. 

“It’s rude to stare, ken?” he said without looking at her.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’ve got quite a nice bottom?”

Jamie picked up a plate and headed back to the bed.

“If it’s arses we’re talking about, Sassenach, I’d rather discuss yours,” he said, eyebrow quirking up as he took a bite of toast.

“Discuss?” she asked, taking the mug of steaming coffee he offered. “Or fondle.”

“Weel if that’s an option, I’d verra much prefer fondling.”

Claire snorted, taking a sip of the hot, bitter liquid. Jamie set a plate down on her lap, settling in beside her. For a moment, she wondered how he was so comfortable in his own skin with her. Frank had never been that way, always pulling on something after they slept together. But here was Jamie, lying naked on the bed beside her, nibbling at the buttered toast.

“What’s troubling ye, mo ghraidh?”

“How do you know something’s troubling me?”

Leaning over, he pressed his index finger between her brows and smiled.

“Ye get a wee crease here when you’re troubled. Tell me what’s wrong?”

“Oh…” she hadn’t realized. “Well… It’s only that you seem so comfortable here, without a stitch on.”

“Only wi’ you.”

Her frown deepened.

“What does that mean?”

“I can only be like this wi’ you. I couldna walk around the flat like this, no’ wi’ Murtagh about. But here, wi’ you… I’m just Jamie. And, weel… I like the way ye look at me. Like a hungry lioness, ready to pounce on her prey.”

Claire grinned, the constant warm feeling that Jamie invoked within her sparking again. She met his eyes. 

“I’ve never been so comfortable with someone either. You don’t want to change any part of me, you love me for who I am, right now.”

Jamie kissed her, one hand gripping her hair.

“Aye,” he said when they were both breathless. “I love ye in a way no one else can.”

Settling back down in the bed, Claire leaned against Jamie, fully content. He’d cleaned off his plate and while she finished her own, his fingers played with her mad curls. They hadn’t been combed in a day or two and their lovemaking had only made them worse. She’d start looking like Medusa soon.

“Frank always asked me to straighten my hair. It isn’t exactly appropriate for-”

“He  **_what_ ** ?” Jamie asked sharply, making Claire jump.

She giggled at the affronted expression on his face and shrugged. He blew out a breath through his nose, reminding her of an angry dragon on the warpath. With a shake of his head, he made a Scottish noise, then reached out, fingers delicately moving through the waves of her hair.

“I  _ love  _ yer curls, a nighean.”

“What, this?” she asked, dubiously smoothing down the wild mass.

“Aye. That,” he replied, chuckling and grabbing her hands.

He buried his nose in the curls, taking in her scent.

“It’s a rather boring color. Too dull to be exciting.”

“No,” he almost purred. “Not dull at all. It’s like the water in a burn, the way the it ruffles down the rocks.”

Claire resisted the urge to snort at his comparing her hair to water.

“Dark in the wavy spots, wi’ we bits of auburn when the sun touches it. Soft as any silk I’ve ever felt.”

“It’s so… unpredictable,” she said, blushing at the look he was giving her.

Jamie laughed again, surprising her.

“Aye, it’s a collieshangie lot, to be sure,” he agreed, fluffing out the crazed mass and trailing it over her shoulders. “But ye ken,” he continued, voice dropping to a low, sultry tone as a fingertip followed a curl that trailed over her collarbone, “it’s  _ you _ , Sorcha.”

Claire shivered, gooseflesh prickling from his touch and the sound of his voice. Food forgotten, she reached out, running her hand down his arm.

“What does that mean?” she whispered. “Sorcha?”

Bringing their lips together again, he subtly pulled her beneath him, ignoring the clatter of their plates hitting the floor.

“Perhaps someday I’ll tell ye.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Jamie discuss their future.

Claire refused to open her eyes when the bed began shifting. All she wanted was to stay here with Jamie, warm and comfortable and safe.

“I ken you’re awake,” he purred, lips brushing against her ear. “I heard Jenny call for lunch a moment ago.”

“God is it that time already?”

“Aye. It is.”

He kissed the back of her neck tenderly and sat up.

“Do we  _ have _ to go down?” She asked, rolling to watch him move around the room.

Jamie smiled over his shoulder at her, hopping into his knickers.

“Aye, I’m afraid we do. The whole reason Murtagh and I came to Lallybroch was because people found me. We’ve been here too long, much as I’d rather stay in this room wi’ you.”

She sighed and nodded.

“You’re right. I’m sorry I’ve distracted you.”

“Dinna fash,” he said with a smirk. “Murtagh doesna get distracted so easily.”

A thought occurred to her as she watched him slip his shirt over his head.

“Do you usually See what’s coming? Is that what prompts your movements?”

His hands slowed as he settled the shirt over his stomach. There was a sudden tenseness in his shoulders that hadn’t been there a moment before.

“Aye, sometimes. This time, though…” he sighed, shaking his head a little before looking at her.

His eyes were worried, the dark blue churning and moving like agitated water.

“I havena Seen anything yet,” he said quietly, sitting down beside her and gently brushing a curl behind her ear. “But I havena survived this long wi’out knowing when to be off.”

Some innate sense of self preservation tightened in Claire’s chest at his words. In her mind, she knew there would be danger the minute she’d chosen him, but acceptance and reality were slow to come together in the haven of the last two days. She took a deep, shaking breath. He’d pulled back, allowing her the space and time to process, though he watched her carefully. Reaching out, she took his hand in reassurance.

“Where to now?” she asked, smiling up at him. 

Her words melted the tension in his body; the hesitant fear in his eyes gave way to relief. He smiled and squeezed her hand, bringing it to his lips to gently kiss her knuckles.

“I dinna ken just yet, Sassenach,” he said, helping her out of bed. “I suppose we’ll find out together, aye?”

Claire rose up to her tiptoes to kiss him once more.

“Yes. Together.”

Both dressed, Jamie opened the door for her, but she stopped him with a hand on his forearm.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Aye, I do.”

“And you know better than to try and get rid of me, right?”

He gave her a pleased smile and kissed her gently.

“That would be like trying to live wi’ half a heart.”

Lacing their hands together, they left their little slice of heaven and headed down the stairs.

“Will you teach me the Lord’s Prayer in Latin?” she whispered when they reached the ground floor.

Jamie laughed, pulling her under his arm and squeezing her gently. 

“Aye, perhaps. I find it’s easier if it’s something I dinna need to think about much, to keep Jenny out. Maybe ye could think of your Hippocratic Oath?”

Rounding the corner into the dining room, Claire began reciting her Oath as quickly as she could.

“Have room and food for two more?” Jamie asked, steering Claire to an empty chair.

“Christ!” Ian yelped, his face pulling into a broad smile. “I nearly forgot ye were here!”

“Ian, dinna lie,” Jenny said, casting a frown at her husband. “It’s rude. Of course we have room for ye. I was about to prepare more trays to take up to ye both, but it seems ye’ve taken a break.”

Claire’s face flushed and she lost track of her thoughts, instead remembering waking up to Jamie’s hand-

“What’s for lunch?” she blurted, voice pitched a little too high.

Jenny smiled, trying not to look at them or to laugh, as she sat down. 

“Mrs. Crook should be out soon wi’ fresh sandwiches. I think she said somethin’ about salad too.”

Jamie filled the glass in front of Claire with water before filling his own. The front door opened and they all turned to watch Murtagh come in, face dour as always.

“Finally!”

Claire’s face flushed again and she turned back to the table.

“Jenny wouldna let me kick that bloody door in,” Murtagh grumbled, plopping into an empty seat.

“I dinna think ye’d have liked what ye saw, if ye had,” Jamie said as Mrs. Crook came in. 

Murtagh glared at them  and sat down at the table . 

“Our place is nearly ready. But I thought we should take a small detour before we move there.”

“Where to?” Ian asked, 

“Claire needs to ken more about her Gift. I ken someone who might teach her. He runs an old style apothecary shop in Paris, goes by the name of Master Raymond.”

“How long will we go?” 

Murtagh shrugged. 

“I dinna ken. It might be good for us to get Jamie out of Scotland for a bit before moving into the new place.”

Jamie’s hand squeezed hers and she looked up at him.

“We’ll stay as long as we need, mo chridhe. Ye need to learn about your Gift, figure out how it works and how to use it.”

Claire nodded, accepting the strength and confidence Jamie offered.

“How did ye find this Raymond?” Jenny asked.

Just before Murtagh answered, Jenny gasped.

“I didna find him, actually. Willie did.”

Silence. 

“When?” Jamie asked, voice slightly hoarse. 

“No’ long before he passed, lad,” Murtagh said gruffly. He cleared his throat. “Aye, so. We’ll need a plan.”

While everyone finished their sandwiches, Murtagh began walking them through the next few days. He had identification and documents for himself and Jamie, but would have to work on something for Claire. She would need to call in to the hospital and extend her leave of absence before cutting off communication until it was safer. No one knew where she was at the moment and there was no way anyone could learn about her plans to travel to Paris.

“I need to get some things from my flat,” Claire said as Murtagh and Ian left for the office to gather some documentation. “And talk to my roommate in person. If I’m away any longer, I’m afraid she’ll send out a search party.”

“Aye, I thought ye might. Ye packed for a trip, but no’ to be gone quite so long.”

“I think Murtagh should take me.”

Jamie frowned at her.

“Ye dinna want me to go wi’ ye? Sick of me already, Sassenach?”

Claire gave him a look.

“I don’t think I could ever be sick of you. But I’d be too worried that you’d be spotted. I’d hate if they found you because of me.”

He kissed her lips quickly and stood.

“Dinna fash. I’ve a cap I can wear.”

"Jamie, a cap isn't going to hide you. You stick out like a sore thumb."   
  
"I dinna want to let ye out of my sight, Claire," Jamie said firmly. "Dougal's been at yer flat. It isna safe."   
  
Everyone in the room looked back and forth between them, waiting.    
  
"That's exactly why you shouldn't be there. Besides, Murtagh will be with me. You've trusted him this far. Why stop now?"

Jamie blinked, glancing at his godfather who raised an eyebrow at him.    
  
"Aye well..." Jamie replied, casting an unsure gaze at Claire.    
  
She reached out, taking his hand.    
  
"It will be fine," she promised.    
  
Jamie exhaled, clearly wanting to argue further.    
  
"Alright," he choked out. "Alright, I wilna go."   
  
He abruptly turned and left the room, leaving the rest of them to finish their meals.    
  
"Check mate to Claire," Ian muttered, making Jenny laugh.

Jamie didn't return. After looking throughout the house, Claire went to search outside. She made her way around the outbuildings of the estate, beginning to wonder if he was still near the house proper at all when she heard a *thunk* coming from the trees nearby. Walking slowly, she sighed in relief as she saw the telltale flash of red through the thick brush. She came closer, then leaned against a tree. 

Jamie was chopping wood with the dispassionate efficiency of a man with a lot on his mind. Claire watched him, mesmerized. His muscles moved smoothly under the thin fabric of his shirt, each powerful stroke resulting in a crack of wood and exhale of breath. Cheeks pink with exertion, he straightened to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Claire took a step forward, stepping on a dry branch that snapped in half, causing Jamie to whirl around in surprise. 

She stood frozen, the only sensation of bodily function that seemed to be working was her heart pounding. He looked like a man out of time; eyes wild, axe in hand, hair disordered. Claire thought he'd been running his hands through it again. His eyes were dark enough to seem black as he looked at her, though she was too far away to tell much more than that. Jamie dropped the axe and slowly started toward her. Claire had the surreal feeling of being stalked by a large predator... and she was the prey.

His brow furrowed a little, looking at her. Then, a corner of his mouth twitched as he exhaled, the tenseness of body lessening a bit. Claire felt herself relax in response and she gave him a small smile. 

“I’m sorry,” they both said together, then laughed. 

“Nay, Sassenach. It's me that should be sorry. Ye didna do anything wrong.”

“I should have spoken to you beforehand instead of just throwing plans at you like that.”

Jamie exhaled, not looking at her. She nudged his booted foot with her own. 

“Honesty,” she said softly. 

“I hate this,” he said without preamble. “I must slink away and hide like a coward and allow every person in my life to handle burdens that are mine to bear.”

He made an impatient gesture toward the house then met her eyes again. 

“I want to go wi’ ye Claire,” he said, accent thickening with emotion. “I need to be wi’ ye because I canna stand the thought of something happening-”

“Nothing will happen-”

“You canna promise that!” he hissed, eyes blazing. “Ye havena Seen what I have!”

Not knowing what to say, Claire said nothing. After a minute, his expression softened. 

“Christ,” he whispered, running a hand through his hair. “I prattle on abou’ wanting to protect ye and then yell at ye…”

“Jamie-”

“D’ye ken I’d do anything to keep ye safe, Claire?” he asked urgently,  eyes suddenly bright and glittering like water in sunlight , making her breath catch.

Claire felt the prick of tears in her eyes. Yes, she did know. James Fraser would protect her until the last drop of his blood. He stepped close, gently taking her face in his hands. 

“The verra thought of losing you..” 

He trailed off, shaking his head and pressing his forehead to hers. 

“Yer mine,” he said lowly, those words so true and ingrained that they reverberated through her body. 

“Yes,” she whispered, tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. “And you're mine.”

Their mouths met, the tension of the morning melting and molding into something else much more than worry and fear. Claire felt the rough bark of the tree against her back as Jamie flushed himself against her, his desperate hands grasping her tightly. Her hands moved to his belt. 

“I need you,” she said softly, hands working quickly. “Please.”

Jamie groaned as she found him, bit her lip as he kissed her hard. His chilled hands found the hem of her shirt, reached up cup her breasts as his mouth swallowed her whimper. The need to ravish him went through like a bolt of lightning, unfamiliar and startling. She reached and sank her nails into his lower back causing him to buck against her. 

Jamie released her mouth, breathing hard. He pulled her free of her trousers, lifted her up, and speared her against the tree. Claire cried out, gripping his shoulders as he took her hard, rolling spasms of pleasure rocking her toward oblivion. 

...Pine needles. The smell of damp bark. The warmth of Jamie’s body holding her, his muscles trembling as he stroked her hair and whispered in Gaelic. Claire sighed, euphoric. The realization of something different opened her eyes.  She lifted her head from Jamie’s shoulder and looked down, seeing  the silver ring  he'd placed on her finger.  It was delicate and bright, etched with interwoven thistle that had her tracing the pattern. Then she realized what it was and what it meant.  She froze, eyes snapping to his.

_ To be continued... _

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire go with Murtagh to find Master Raymond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously…
> 
> She lifted her head from Jamie’s shoulder and looked down, seeing the silver ring he'd placed on her finger. It was delicate and bright, etched with interwoven thistle that had her tracing the pattern. Then she realized what it was and what it meant. She froze, eyes snapping to his.

 

“Jamie…”

Her heart caught in her throat as he knowingly squeezed her hands. She stared down at the silver ring, eyes wide. It was a stunning piece of work.

Jamie cleared his throat.

“Wi’ as crazy as our lives are at the moment, we canna get married the way I’d like, the way ye deserve.”

“The way you’d like?”

He shrugged thoughtfully, choosing his words before he spoke.

“In a church, before a priest, wi’ you in a pretty dress. It’s… Weel, it’s only I used to dream of that as a lad.  And… I want to give ye so much, Claire. I’d lay the whole world at your feet if ye asked. Ye deserve a beautiful wedding, the chance to be a proper bride. ”

“Dream? Or See?”

“Just dream. But I …  _ we _ canna take the risk of doing that just now. So I thought, maybe, ye might handfast wi’ me.”

Her gaze moved back to the ring, noting how perfect it looked on her hand.

“Is… Is this…?”

Claire turned the ring slowly around her finger, memory triggered by the silver shining from the thistles that adorned the circlet. The pattern was well worn, but still distinct. 

“That’s the story,” he responded, smiling softly. “It’s the Faerie Wife’s ring, passed down from father to son for generations.”

He lifted her hand and kissed the ring, light blue streaks glowing and surging in his eyes.

“And now, it belongs to my  _ wife _ .”

“Jamie, I…”

Her voice trailed off as she twisted the ring around her finger. In all the time she’d been with Frank, marriage hadn’t really been a topic of conversation. Sure, he probably would have asked someday, but she wouldn’t have held her breath.

But here Jamie was, asking her to agree to a temporary marriage until he was safe enough to have a real one. And all she could think of was how wonderful it would be to always be his.

“If,” his voice cracked. “If ye’ll have me,” he added patiently, watching her.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’ll handfast with you until we can have a proper wedding.”

Grinning, he picked her up and swung her around, kissing her cheeks as he did.

“I ken I havena got much to offer ye. I dinna even have a damned home. But if I have ye wi’ me, I dinna think I care!” He put her down, still holding her close. “You are my home now, Claire.”

Her smile grew wide and bright as she kissed him.

“As you are mine, James Fraser.”

He took both of her hands in his own and breathed deeply. 

“Now handfasting is an old custom, but is still a legal form of  marriage  in Scotland.” With his left hand, he dug in his pocket and pulled out a strip of plaid. “Gi’ me your hand and repeat the words after me. They’re in Gaelic, so I’ll speak slow.”

“Shouldn’t we put clothes on for this?” Claire asked uncertainly, reaching up to tidy her hair.

Jamie deftly caught her wrist and shook his head.

“Ye look like a wood nymph, Sorcha,” he said, voice low and warm.

He pulled at the hem of her shirt, baring her completely.

“Yer glowin’ like a candle.”

Claire would have said something about her pale skin, but stopped herself, seeing he was perfectly serious. The look in his eyes made her heart stutter. Slowly, she reached out and pulled his own shirt over his head. 

The sun shone through the trees, dappling their bodies in dancing shadows as they knelt before each other. Her hand slid back into his and he tied them together, using his teeth to pull the knot tight. He spoke unfamiliar Gaelic words, his strong and confident voice grounding her. Claire might not have understood the words, but she felt their meaning.

By some unspoken agreement, they leaned closer and sealed their vows with a kiss. It held promise and love and desire, filling her mind with dreams of what their future might be.

“So, what exactly did I just pledge? Did I promise to be meek and obedient? Because if I did, I’ve got some news for you…”

He laughed then, bending to kiss the back of her hand.

“Nae. It rhymes a bit, when ye translate it to English. ‘ _ Ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone. I give ye my Body, that we Two might be One. I give ye my Spirit, 'til our Life shall be Done.’  _ I ken it’s a bit pagan.”

“It’s beautiful, Jamie. Does it need to be witnessed or anything?”

Nodding, he seemed to breathe a little easier. 

“Aye, but it can be done now. We just ha’ to show someone that we’ve handfast and made our vows.”

As the surge of tenderness and emotion faded, they looked around at their clothes. They hadn’t exactly thought this through and realized tying their hands together posed a problem.

“Um…” she began, biting her lip.

“Weel… I suppose I can untie us for a moment? I dinna think it will ruin anything…”

Claire snorted.

“I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”

“It’s a deal.”

After a brief struggle, Jamie got the plaid untied and they both dressed. Lacing her fingers with his, she waited for him to re-tie their binding. He kissed her swiftly before turning them back toward Lallybroch. 

“You know I’d rather you came with me, if it was safe for you,” she said as the manor house came into view.

“Aye, I ken. Murtagh will keep ye safe, I trust him to do that. He’s kept me alive all this time.”

Making their way to the sitting room, where they could hear several voices, was awkward with their bond hands. Ian was the first to notice and he grinned at them.

“About time, man!” he said.

Murtagh and Jenny turned to look, taking in their appearance. It was only then that Claire realized Jamie had twigs and leaves in his hair. She likely did too. Hastily, she reached up and began trying to pluck them all out.

“Claire and I have handfast,” Jamie said. “Would ye bear witness?”

“Aye,” all three said in unison.

“This is temporary, ken? Until we can make it official.”

“Good,” Murtagh said. “Now, if ye two love birds are done flirtin’ and sneakin’ about, I think it’s time we take Claire to get her things so we can leave. I’m gettin’ itchy.”

***

Murtagh followed her into her flat, keeping a wary eye out. Thankfully, the flat was empty when they walked in.

“Alright. Ye need to pack for a bit. Leave a note for yer roommate if ye like. Try and be quick about it, lass. I dinna like leaving him wi’out protection.”

She nodded and dashed to her room. Gathering her luggage, she packed whatever clothes she hadn’t taken on her previous journey. Satisfied she had everything she needed, she took her bags out to where Murtagh waited. He took one of them for her and Claire left a note for Geillis on the table.

Locking the door behind her, Claire followed Murtagh down the stairs and nearly ran into Geillis.

“Claire! Where the hell have you been?!”

“Oh! Geillis! I wasn’t sure if I’d see you before I left.”

Her roommate frowned.

“Left? Claire you’ve been gone for days.”

“I know. I just… I’m still trying to find myself after leaving Frank. I’ll be gone for a while more and I really don’t know when I’ll be home.”

Geillis eyed Murtagh, who waited patiently at the bottom of the stairs.

“Who’s that?” Geillis asked in a harsh whisper.

“He’s, uh…” Claire faltered, unsure how to explain Murtagh. 

She couldn’t exactly say he was her bodyguard.

“Oh. My.  _ God. _ Claire! Is  _ this _ who you’ve been shacking up with?!”

_ “What?!” _

“I know you were with a man when you called me the other day. I wouldn’t have thought he was your type, but… Considering Frank was your last lover, I suppose you don’t really have much of a type anymore.”

Claire huffed an annoyed sigh.

“Geillis… That’s not…”

“He’s definitely not  _ my  _ type, but if that’s what you’re into now…”

Murtagh was glaring at Geillis, but she was facing away from him.

“I’m sorry,” Claire said, stopping Geillis’ crude remarks. “I’m afraid I have to go. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

“You should both come up for a farewell drink! I’ve some new brandy I think you’d like!”

Claire gave her best friend a small smile and shook her head.

“I can’t. We’re running late as it is. I promise I’ll call you later.”

A feeling of urgency pushed Claire to move past Geillis and follow Murtagh out to his car. He pulled away from her flat, heading for Lallybroch and Jamie. 

“Are you sure it’s safe to take Jamie to Paris?” she asked, staring out the window. 

“Aye. I’ve got everything ready for us to leave tomorrow. It’ll be better to get him out of Scotland for a bit. No one will think of lookin’ for him in France.”

She nodded, sitting back in her seat for the rest of the drive.

***

Jamie grumbled in the back seat, folding his arms over his chest to express his displeasure. 

“Oh dinna start that back up, lad. Ye ken why we couldna take a flight.”

He muttered something dark in Gaelic and huffed. They’d been driving for several hours after Murtagh decided it was the safest way. The only thing Jamie enjoyed about the drive was spending time with Claire. The silver ring glinted on her finger, making him smile each time he saw it.

Eventually, Murtagh announced that they’d arrived at their destination. It was a small cottage, theirs for as long as they needed it. As he held the door for Claire, Jamie saw a tiny camera lense pointed at the front door. So it was a secure cottage - no surprise there.

“Alright you two,” Murtagh said, closing and locking the door behind him. “Exterior doors and windows have sensors so no one can break in. Ye have the master room, I’ve got the other. First thing tomorrow, we’ll go and find our Master Raymond.”

“Thank you for doing all of this, Murtagh,” Claire said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “This means a lot to me.”

Murtagh’s cheeks flushed and he looked bashfully down.

“Try and get some sleep,” he said before giving them both a pointed stare. “And I do mean  _ sleep _ . Claire will have a lot of work to do and I suspect Jamie might be a part of it. I’ll see ye both in the morning.”

He disappeared with his bag into his room. Jamie, insisting on carrying Claire’s bags as well, followed her down to the master bedroom. 

It wasn’t as large as the laird’s room in Lallybroch, but it would do. The bed would be interesting, given his size.

“Well,” Claire said, her eyes on the bed as well. “I guess it’s good we’re already married, isn’t it?”

Jamie laughed.

“Aye. It’ll make for cozy nights, to be sure.”

“Nights with you are  _ always _ cozy. You’ve an internal furnace.”

Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed her softly. 

“Now if only I could use my furnace to keep those wee feet of yours warm,” he said ruefully.

Claire giggled and dressed for bed, sliding in beside him, her body soft and warm against his own. The frame squeaked horribly, but neither of them wanted any more than to sleep and hold each other. Jamie was almost excited to see what tomorrow would bring. Excitement and trepidation warred in his mind, but the feel and scent of his wife beside him finally pulled him down into peaceful oblivion.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does Jamie spend his time alone in the Cottage in France while Claire is away with Murtagh to learn from Master Raymond?

Claire startled awake to the soft clearing of a throat, dimly aware that Jamie still slept peacefully beside her.

“Lass.”

Claire found Murtagh in the dark, and exhaled, running a hand over her eyes.

“What is it? Is something wrong?”

“Nay, lass. I’ve found him,” he whispered. 

Claire blinked.

“Already?”

“I’ve been searching longer than ye’ve been around, ken?”

Claire nodded, glancing at Jamie’s still sleeping form.

“We’ll leave just after sunup, aye?”

“Aye,” Claire yawned, excitement warring with nervousness as Murtagh quietly closed the door behind him. 

Snuggling closer, she tried to relax back into sleep. Her back arched, every part of her not wanting to leave him.

Jamie rolled on his side, wrapping her in warmth and reassuring solidness as he buried his nose in her curls.

“I love you,” she whispered.

Jamie made a contented noise, nuzzling against her neck as she ran his hair through her fingers. 

“Yer leavin’ soon,” he said softly.

It wasn’t a question. Claire sighed, letting him shift her onto her back as his warm hands slid the quilt down.

“I have to. You know that.”

“Aye, I ken.”

He settled over her, cradling her beneath him as he brought her night shirt over her head. 

“I’ll miss you,” she said softly. “I wish I knew how long it might take.”

Jamie sighed, nodding, then bent his head to kiss her chest, just over her heart. He rested his chin there, his eyes churning dark and fathomless as they met hers. She could feel him hard against her thigh, but he made no move to close the gap between them. He meant to savor this, to take his time.

This would be the longest they’d been apart since Claire had found him and her breath caught at the thought. Jamie swallowed as he watched her face. He must have felt it too.

Turning to press his cheek to her chest, he watched his fingertip run from her neck to her collarbone, shoulder to wrist, the outside of her breast down to her hip. Gooseflesh rippled over Claire’s body and she shivered involuntarily. 

He continued tracing her skin, reading her like a blind man. Claire ran her hand down his back, sighing as he finally reached the throbbing pulse between her legs. He moved to cradle her head on his other arm, eyes never leaving hers as she began to rock against his hand. 

It was a slow rising and falling that had her panting, not knowing where she ended, only where they both began.

“Jamie,” she gasped, brow furrowing as he denied her a kiss

“No, mo nighean donn,” he said, the dark in his eyes suddenly shot through with bluish silver. “I want to watch ye.”

Her back arched and she cried out as Jamie pressed her further and further, stroking and circling until she finally shattered. Blindly, she kissed him, feeling his smile against her lips as he shifted between her legs and slowly guided himself inside her. 

The ring on her hand glinted as the first light of morning came through the window, the metal pressing into her skin as Jamie gripped her fingers in his. 

He rocked gently, strength held in check as he worshipped her, love and longing in his eyes. And fear.

“I’ll come back,” she whispered, barely keeping her eyes open as her words urged him to thrust deeper. “I promise.”

“I’ll be right here,” he whispered hoarsely in her ear, rocking harder as she gripped him to her. 

“Always.”

* * *

They snuggled together for as long as they could, until they heard Murtagh moving around the cottage. Quietly, they got up and dressed, nudging and touching each other as often as they could. He was afraid, for so many reasons. Afraid that she’d be found, that she’d get hurt, that someone would try and take her.

“Alright, lass,” Murtagh said. “Ye have yer bag?”

Claire nodded, patting the duffle on her shoulder. Murtagh nodded.

“Good. We’ll head out, then. Jamie…” Murtagh put a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “I give ye my oath that I’ll look after yer lass. I willna let any harm come to her, so long as I draw breath. I will bring her back to ye safe and sound.”

Jamie nodded gravely.

“So long as ye dinna leave. Dinna be a dim witted wee idiot and leave the cottage. There’s enough food for a week, books in the study, and the security system is linked to my mobile. Ye canna call or text either o’ us, but I’ll bring Claire back in a week.”

Murtagh gave him a serious frown and waited just outside the front door. Claire turned to him, her eyes sad.

“I love you,” she said. 

“Aye. I love ye too, Sassenach. Go on, now. I’ll see ye in a week or so.”

Claire cupped his face as his hands tightened possessively around her hips.

“It will be alright. I need to do this. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He nodded, pressing his forehead to hers. 

“Besides,” she said, smiling up at him. “If you can be on the run for years, I think I can manage one week.”

He laughed, kissing her brow.

“Aye. Heaven help anyone who tries to prevent ye, Sassenach.”

“Too right.”

Murtagh cleared his throat.

She turned her face up to his and accepted his lingering kiss. He followed her out to the door, waving to her as Murtagh pulled away. 

* * *

Jamie rustled about the cottage, picking things up and putting them down at random. Christ, they’d only been gone two days.  _ Pull it together, man. Murtagh has things in hand. _

He ran a hand through his hair, forcing himself to sit down and pick up the new dream journal he’d brought with him. The rest were locked safe away at Lallybroch. 

He tapped his fingers on his thigh, feeling like a big cat in a small cage. While he was used to being in hiding, wandering from place to place, the thought of Claire out and about alone made his stomach turn. She was a braw lass, but…

Jamie twitched, as if shrugging off a thought, and began pacing again. He knew not to call. Still… Jamie slowed, looking out the window. Perhaps…

Maybe if he just took a quick Look, he’d See any danger coming for her. It would be a fast Look, nothing extreme or lengthy. If he was fast, he might not even get a headache afterward. Jamie sat down on the corner of his bed and closed his eyes, focusing. 

_ He lingered in the shadows, blending in like he was one of them. She walked down the road, a hat hiding her dark curls. But he knew her, had studied her face. So he watched, waiting to see what she would do, where she would go. _

_ She stopped in a shop, bag on her arm. He walked forward, still hiding in the shadows, keeping an eye on her. For a brief moment, he caught sight of himself in the reflection of the large window. _

Jamie’s eyes snapped open, heart pounding frantically beneath his ribs. Someone was following his Claire, someone who could mean her harm. Stuffing his feet into his shoes, he grumbled to himself. He’d promised Murtagh he would stay put, but this was different. Murtagh didn’t know someone was following Claire. How could he be expected to protect her from a threat he didn’t even know existed?

Digging through his bag, he pulled out the wool cap Jenny had made him and stuffed his hair into it. Then, hunching his shoulders, Jamie left the cottage. There wasn’t much he could do about his size, but he couldn’t sit idly by while someone stalked his wife.

For a few hours, he wandered around, cursing himself for not asking where this Raymond’s home was. He was sure Murtagh wouldn’t have told him even if he  _ had _ asked, but Jamie had no point to start from. At one point, he stopped someone and asked for directions. He’d Seen the shop Claire had stopped in, he just needed to know how to get there.

When he found the shop, Jamie wondered if he’d made the wrong choice. The problem with a Seeing that fast was he hadn’t gotten an indication of how far in the future it was. It could have been minutes or days. No matter. If he had to wait here for days, he would. He spoke French well enough no one would be bothered by him.

Waiting, Jamie watched someone emerge from the shadows from exactly the place he’d Seen. The lad could be no more than twelve, wild curls surrounding a small, pale face.

Jamie watched him, unsure what to do until the boy turned around. Large, blue eyes went wide in recognition, then the lad was running fast, turning down an alleyway. 

“Ifrinn,” Jamie muttered, picking up the chase. 

The lad moved like an eel in the water, darting around and under and through with very little effort. Jamie was much larger and could have been much faster, if he hadn’t been forced to leap over things in his pursuit. 

Then, without warning, the young lad dashed through a door. Thumping music flowed out until the door closed. Jamie glanced up at the sign above the entrance and grimaced.

_ Madame Elise’s Club _

“Christ,” Jamie muttered, crossing himself before barreling in after the gomerel.

He’d never been in a place like this before, though he knew they existed. Personally, he didn’t understand why it lured people. Nothing that happened inside this place was real, but fake and bought. Somehow, seeing the women dancing out of the corner of his eye made him think of Claire. Not that he compared them to her, but because he missed her. The way her lips curved in her sleep, or how her hand often rested on his chest or stomach; the way her feet were always frigid until she curled up around him. 

Shaking himself, he looked around for the wee boy who’d come in here. Spotting him, Jamie dove and caught his thin arm, pulling him back. He clapped a hand over the lad’s mouth before he could scream and hauled him outside. 

The darkness of the club made it difficult to see in the sunlight for a moment, but he didn’t release the boy. He took a moment to consider his options. Until he knew more information, he couldn’t bring the lad back to the cottage. Glancing down at the scrawny boy, Jamie decided to do the unexpected.

“Come with me,” Jamie said in French, though he didn’t give the option to refuse.

“I’m not a whore!” the lad yelled back, his voice cracking.

“That’s good.”

Jamie found a small cafe where he ordered two pieces of cake.

“Now,” Jamie said in French. “If you sit and talk with me, the cake is yours. If not, I shall take you to the authorities and declare you a pickpocket.”

The lad’s frantic eyes darted around the cafe, noting the exits.

“Look,” Jamie said, dropping into English. “I have no wish to hurt ye. I just want to talk.”

“If,” the boy said slowly. “If I talk, you will not turn me in?”

“I give ye my word.”

Reluctantly, he sat down at the table Jamie had taken them to. It was in the furthest corner, easy to keep their conversation private.

Once he was seated, the lad dove into the cake, gobbling it down in huge mouthfuls. Jamie picked at his own, waiting for the lad to finish.

“First,” Jamie asked. “What is your name?”

“Claudel.”

_ That wasn’t the sort of name to give to a man, _ Jamie thought. But they were here to talk business, not names.

“Why are ye following my wife?”

Claudel looked at him as if he were stupid.

“So they can take you. They know that she would not travel to France and leave you behind. I picked their pockets and they found out.”

For a moment, Jamie wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything.

“Oh,” he said, finally understanding. “So they threaten to turn ye in to keep ye workin’ for them?”

Claudel nodded, licking his fork.

“Yes. I am to report to them if I catch sight of you.”

“And have ye reported me?”

The boy shook his head, eyeing Jamie’s cake with a greedy eye.

“No,” he said absently. “You caught me before I could reach them.”

“What did Dougal tell ye about me?”

Claudel looked up, confused.

“Dougal?”

“Aye. The man at the head of the group ye work for.”

The boy shook his head, the dark curls bouncing a little.

“No. He may have a man called Dougal, but Bonnet is the man who found me.”

This was new information. He had no idea who this Bonnet character was. If he wasn’t one of Dougal’s men, then who the hell was he?

“Claudel, I’ve an offer for ye.”

Blue eyes narrowed at him and Jamie slid the last slice of cake over to the lad.

“If I want to say no, will you turn me in for being a pickpocket?”

“Dinna ken. Are ye a pickpocket?”

Claudel reached a hand into his pocket and came out with Jamie’s cottage key. Muttering a Gaelic curse, Jamie took the key back. 

“No. I’ll no’ turn ye in. But, if ye work wi’ me, I’ll gi’ ye a home. It’ll be safe. Ye willna have to work for men like that ever again.”

The silver fork twirled in Claudel’s hand as he refused to meet Jamie’s gaze. Suddenly Jamie’s mind was filled with images and memories that were not his. A young girl, pregnant by a man she didn’t know. A fussing babe with no home or name. A boy, running around the streets of Paris picking pockets to buy food. Picking the wrong pocket and being cornered by a frightening man who was full of threats. Then Jamie was looking at his own angry face, but through the eyes of Claudel. He could feel the fear the boy had had, the terror pushing adrenaline through his veins to run faster.

Shaking himself back to reality, Jamie sighed. To his surprise, Claudel was still sitting at the table, twirling the fork. Waiting for the inevitable headache, Jamie felt bad for the boy. He’d grown up with nothing, being forced to steal in order to eat.

“I will keep ye safe,” Jamie said in a serious voice. “I willna let anyone harm ye or take ye away. I gi’ ye my word that ye willna have to steal to feed yourself. I will care for ye as if ye were my own son.”

Claudel met his eyes then and the fork dropped onto the table. It bounced and clattered to the floor, but neither man made a move to pick it up.

“What do you want in return?” he asked carefully.

“Information. All I want is for ye to tell me all ye ken about the men ye worked for.”

“And you will not threaten to take me to jail if I say something you do not like, or if I do not know?”

Jamie nodded.

“I gi’ ye my word on it, lad.”

After a moment to consider the offer, Claudel held out his hand to shake.

“Then I will tell you everything I know.”

“How about, before we do that,” Jamie said, frowning in thought. “We gi’ ye a proper man’s name, aye?”

“Claudel is the name I was given,” the lad said.

Jamie nodded, assessing the boy as best he could. He could Look into the future to see what sort of man Claudel might become. But he’d taken enough risks by Seeing more than once today without Claire around. If he were to Look again, it could end badly.

“How about Fergus?” Jamie said, brows lifted in question.

The lad shrugged.

“It sounds better than Claudel.”

“Aye, that it does. Sounds like a proper man’s name. Now, before we go home… Have ye anything on ye that they can track?”

Fergus shook his head.

“No. I just reported back to them and they let me go on my way.”

“Good.”

Jamie picked up the fallen fork and took their empty dishes to the appropriate bin. Then, he took the lad back to the cottage, pleased to have company for the coming days.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire begins her training with Master Raymond and learns more about her own Gift. But being apart from Jamie isn't easy, but she finds a way to cope with the separation. Murtagh also has a small secret he's been keeping.

Claire sat quietly beside Murtagh in the cab, watching the streets of Paris pass by. She’d never been to Paris before. There was a vague memory of an early childhood dream to visit Paris with her true love and kiss beneath the Eiffel Tower. Maybe she could persuade Murtagh to let Jamie out for one night and they’d sneak over there.  _ No _ , she sighed,  _ that would put him in too much danger and that was too much to risk _ .

When the cab came to a stop, Murtagh exited first and helped her with her bag, eyes constantly moving.

“Does he know we’re coming?”

“Nae. Couldna risk him tellin’ someone the lad’s location. But, if Willie’s research is still accurate, he’ll help ye.”

She nodded, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous. There was so much at stake: what if she couldn’t learn anything? For a moment, she worried that her breakfast would come back up with the way her stomach was roiling. Thankfully it remained where it was.

The door of the herbalist’s shop opened and a dark skinned young woman smiled at them. 

“Madame? Monsieur?”

“Je cherche Maître Raymond.”

A loud thud had the woman rolling her eyes before motioning them inside.

“Bonne après-midi,” Claire said as a small frog-like man approached them.

He looked her up and down with a keen eye.

“You are English, yes?” the man asked in French.

Claire nodded sheepishly.

“My French betrays me,” she said.

“Ah! Then I will make this easier for you. What is it that I can do for you, Madonna?”

She frowned at him for a moment.

“Monsieur,” Murtagh said gruffly. “Have ye a private place that we might speak freely? Somewhere that willna be overheard?”

Prying his eyes from Claire, Raymond looked at Murtagh and nodded.

“Of course, of course. Right this way. Mind the shop!”

Raymond lead them down a narrow hallway and into a back room. Claire was fascinated by all the jars around them, filled with herbs she’d never even heard of. The herbalist closed and locked the door behind them.

“It is free of unwanted ears, here. What is it you need me to get?”

Murtagh folded his arms over his chest, deciding how much to tell this new person.

“What do ye ken of the Sight?”

If the small man was startled by the question, he gave no indication. Instead, he surveyed Claire and Murtagh. Claire’s heart leapt; he looked just like Uncle Lamb had when he'd found something of unique interest. 

“I know it is an unusual Gift,” Raymond said. “Very rare in the modern age. I have heard rumors that one with the Sight still lives, but…” he waved his hands in a dismissive gesture.

“What do you ken of Healers?”

Raymond sat down on a wooden crate, rubbing his face with his hands.

“What is it that you need from me? If you cannot tell me what it is, then you have no business being here.”

Claire stepped forward before Murtagh could say something rude.

“We need your help, monsieur. My husband has the Sight, but his  body…” She swallowed, then went on. “His body cannot handle it. The stronger the visions get, the more they effect him. I seem to have a Gift as well to be a Healer for him, but I do not know how to use my Gift. We hoped that you might be able to help us.”

Raymond’s eyes went so wide Claire worried they might pop out.

“He truly has the Sight?”

“Aye,” Murtagh said sourly. “And if the lass here canna use her Gift, he’ll die.”

“Take my hands,” Raymond said, suddenly getting to his feet. “And tell me your name.”

Claire rested her hands on top of Raymond’s, a sharp shock making her flinch.

“Claire… Beauchamp.”

“I understand the need for secrecy, Madonna. Do you know what it is you do when you Heal your husband?”

She closed her eyes and concentrated on the way she’d passed energy from herself to Jamie. Raymond jerked his hands away, breathing hard.

“How long are you in Paris?” he asked, voice thready with desperation.

“However long we need,” Murtagh answered for them.

“Excellent! This will be much easier if you stay with me.”

Thoughts of Jamie sprang into her mind, the look on his face as they’d pulled away from the cottage.

“We will stay for a week at a time,” Murtagh said. “But we’ve people lookin’ for us and for the lad. We canna gi’ ye our real names, ken? Or tell ye where we’re from.”

Raymond shook his head and waved his hands again.

“You will stay in my home. I am off the grid, so you will be safe. I do not need information, only a promise that you,” he looked at Claire. “Will do as I say when I teach you about your Gift.”

“Of course,” she said. “But what about your shop?”

“What of it? It does not need me to run. And if someone does need me, Delphine knows how to contact me.”

Nervously, Claire nodded her head and followed Raymond out a back door. Only six more days until she could see Jamie again.

\-----

Raymond put them up in separate but adjoined rooms. He allowed her time to wash up and take a nap if she wished, but he wanted to speak with her as soon as possible. Murtagh was her ever-present shadow everywhere she went.

“What do you know of auras?” Raymond asked, looking through a bookshelf as Claire took her seat.

“Not much, I’m afraid. The man that raised me was a practical sort.”

“Ah!” He said, pulling a book from the shelf. “Then let me give you the basics. Everyone has an aura, a sort of… glow about them. Not everyone can see them, you understand.”

Setting the book out on the table, he flipped through a few pages until he found the one he wanted. Claire leaned forward to study the drawing of a human shape, surrounded by a rainbow of light.

“Is this what you see about people?”

“Yes, Madonna. For instance your friend here,” he nodded at Murtagh. “He has many colors, but the strongest I can see is his loyalty. Everyone will tell you different colors mean different things. He is strong and protective and very loyal.”

Claire nodded, watching Murtagh frown.

“Yes, he is very loyal to my husband.”

Raymond devolved into explanations of the different colors as he understood them. He was a very animated storyteller, using his hands in wide arcs as he spoke. Claire found herself relaxing around this odd little man, taking comfort in his absolute belief. He didn’t need to see Jamie, which made Murtagh happy, but he knew he could help.

“I have a little of the Healing Gift myself, but not as strong as most. But you, Madonna…”

“What about her,” Murtagh asked sharply.

“Most Healing I’ve seen happen has a blue energy about it. But yours, Madonna, is pure white.”

Frowning, Claire sat back in her chair.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that you are  _ La Dame Blanche _ . The White Lady.”

Though she had no context for the title he gave her, she felt her pulse race. It frightened her, like it carried a weight with it.

“What exactly does that mean?” she asked, surprised her voice wasn’t trembling.

“It means you have a great Gift, Madonna. For most who Heal, it is specific. Some are good at mending damaged bones. Others I have known work well with the brain. But your Gift covers the whole of a person. Tell me, you are a doctor?”

She nodded.

“And you seem to always know when something is wrong? Even if tests tell you nothing else is wrong?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I always know, even if I’m not sure what it is.”

“This is why you are  _ La Dame Blanche _ . You can heal most anyone. Of course, there are things that even Gifts cannot heal, but you are more powerful than most Healers.”

Murtagh stood and began pacing.

“The reason we are here, Master Raymond,” he said. “Is because Claire needs help wi’ her gift. Can ye teach her to use it better? Help her get stronger?”

Raymond nodded quickly.

“Oh yes, of course! Give me a little time to find some books. I have a few talents of my own, as I’ve said. But yes, I can help her. You both take your time and settle in. I’m not sure how long this will all take.”

A sudden wave of panic took over Claire. 

“What about…” she trailed off, looking up at Murtagh. He would know what she meant.

“You are not a prisoner here,” Raymond said. “You can come and go as you wish. If you’d like to only work and stay here a few days a week, that’s alright with me.”

“We’ll leave once a week,” Murtagh said. “No’ the same day, ken. For our safety and yers, we willna tell ye when we go or where we’ll go.”

Raymond nodded.

“Fine, fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve some books to collect. I’ll have dinner ready at six.”

\-----

That night, Claire sat on her bed and felt very alone. Jamie was always such a presence in her life, everywhere she went. She’d been sleeping beside him long enough to grow accustomed to it. This bed looked large and cold without him in it.

Murtagh’s restrictions didn’t allow her to call or write to Jamie. But she could write a letter to him, she just wouldn’t send it. She could leave the letters with him for him to read while she was gone. Yes, that would be good.

_ My love, _

_ I think you’d enjoy Master Raymond. He’s quite a character, very eccentric. Murtagh didn’t like him to start, I think. He knows how Gifts work, Jamie. Your brother was right, he can help me. It’s late and I’m tired. But looking at the bed reminds me that I haven’t slept without you in a while. I don’t like it, being here knowing you’re sleeping alone too. It’s what we need, I know, but I miss you. I’m glad you gave me a shirt of yours, though. It smells like you. _

_ I love you. _

_ -C _

Folding the letter up, Claire slipped it into the drawer of her bedside table and crawled into the lonely bed.

\-----

“Come with me, Madonna,” Raymond said. “We need to discuss and understand what your Gift is and what it does.”

“Didn’t we do that already?” she asked, finishing her coffee.

“Come with me,” he said again, bustling off down a hallway. 

Claire glanced at Murtagh curiously, but he just shrugged. She jogged off after the Frenchman, finding him in a small library. A pile of old books sat on the desk, one open at the top of the pile.

“We discussed generalities, Madonna,” he said. “Nothing specific. And these questions I must ask you might set off your bodyguard.”

She watched him warily, aware that Jamie’s fate now lay in her hands.

“I won’t betray my husband. His secrets are his to tell, not mine.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to. I just need to know a little about how his Gift works and how yours interacts with him. That’s all.”

The entire day was full of questions and answers from both of them. By the time they all sat down for dinner, he’d helped her discover where the power of her Gift lay. She couldn’t access it on command, but he said that would come with practice. 

Before she curled up for bed, she wrote Jamie another letter.

_ My love, _

_ Honestly I don’t feel as though I’ve made much progress today. But Raymond says that comes with time and practice. It’s difficult though. Since becoming a doctor, I’m used to knowing what I need to do and doing it. This is so different than anything I’ve ever done. I’m determined, though. I’m going to figure this Gift out and come back to you. I miss you. _

_ -C _

Pulling the sheets up around herself, she sighed and sank slowly into sleep.

Claire woke up in Raymond’s house, not sure what it was that woke her. An unusual sound caught her attention, so she got up. She’d been wearing one of Jamie’s shirts to bed since she’d left the cottage, the only way to keep him close until she saw him again. 

Following her ears, she rounds a corner and discovers Murtagh sitting on a stool playing a beautiful cello. 

“I didn’t know you played,” she said quietly.

“Dinna play much these days. No time, wi’ trying to hide the lad and all. But I’ve a moment here. Ye should be asleep, lass.”

Claire shrugged, moving to be closer to the beautiful instrument. 

“I know. But I heard the sound and wondered what it was. May I sit and listen?”

“Of course,” Murtagh said, inclining his head to an empty chair.

He relaxed into a melody she vaguely recognized, the sounds soft and sweet beneath his broad hands. It amazed her, how beautiful it all was, how delicate for such a gruff man.

Her eyes, steadily growing heavier in her need for sleep, finally drifted closed.

“That’s a beautiful melody,” she mumbled. “I don’t think I’ve heard it before.”

“Aye. It’s a song often sung wi’ the tale of the Fraser Faerie Wife. Some say it was she what brought it to us. There’s words to it, ken, but I dinna sing.”

Claire felt herself moving along with the music, wishing she had Jamie with her to dance with.

“Ellen,” Murtagh’s voice cracked a long time later. “Ellen used to sing it. She had a lovely voice. She didna sing it often. Mostly when Brian or one of the bairns couldna sleep.”

“Would you tell me the words? Not sing, just tell me?”

Murtagh nodded, letting the music bring itself back to the start.

“There’s many different versions o’ this song, ken. But I’ll tell ye the words for the Fraser version.”

“I’d like that.”

The deep, rich notes filled the room and Claire’s mind supplied her with images of the Fraser Wife.

“Sing me a song,” Murtagh began, his voice blending beautifully with the cello. “Of a lass that is gone… Say, could that lass be I?”

In her imagination, she could see the Fraser wife running to the standing stones to protect her beloved, terrified and heartbroken.

“Merry of soul she sailed on a dais, over the sea to Skye.”

The melody carried her away and Claire began to doze, absently wondering if Jamie was also dreaming of the Faerie Wife. Dimly, she was aware that the music had stopped and Murtagh had picked her up in his arms.

“Hush, lass,” he said softly. “I’m just puttin’ ye to bed. Jamie would have my head if he kent I left ye to sleep in a chair.”

“You’re wrong, you know,” she said, almost sounding drunk. “You’ve a lovely singing voice.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Murtagh return home to find wee Fergus in the cottage with Jamie. Two stubborn Scots and a stubborn Sassenach makes for an unexpected welcome home.

Finally a week had gone by and Claire was ecstatic to see Jamie again. Murtagh left a short, vague note for Raymond informing him that they’d be back within twenty-four hours.

Much as she’d rather be in the cottage with Jamie, locked in their room for a day, Claire agreed they should stop for supplies first. With Jamie on full lock-down, he couldn’t leave to get food or other necessities. So she and Murtagh stopped to shop for a little bit before they made the rest of the drive to the cottage. 

Just seeing it come into view gave Claire a thrill of excitement. Jamie would be waiting for her, just inside the door. She could almost smell him, could almost feel his soft hair sliding through her fingers, almost taste the salty sweat on his neck.

Instead, she restrained herself and helped Murtagh with the groceries, waiting while he unlocked the door. They looked at each other with worry when they heard multiple voices coming from somewhere in the cottage.

“No no!” chirped an unfamiliar voice. “It  _ is _ naughty!”

“How is it naughty? It’s a game!”

“Oui, a game! But the club has games too and sometimes I play with them.”

Jamie, the other voice floating down the hall, scoffed.

“You’re only a wee lad. Ye dinna play those sorts of games.”

“Just look at it! Even without being carved it looks like a cock and ball!”

“Ye… Ye mean, they… Christ, lad! Ye canna be serious!”

A clack of wood on wood echoed toward Claire and Murtagh.

“Oui, I would not lie about something like that! One of the girls, Daphne I think, had one carved to look like a-”

“What the hell is this?!” Murtagh barked, staring at Jamie and a young boy.

Both figures shot up from the floor like cats caught in a trap. Claire had a moment to think that if she wasn’t so shocked, she might have laughed. That impulse quickly left as questions and worry entered her mind. Murtagh was already striding into the room. 

Jamie stood and met Murtagh face to face. Claire started. It was the first time she'd ever seen him so angry. The young boy backed away, pressing himself against the wall. 

“This is Fergus. Weel, his name is really Claudel, but we both agreed that wasna verra manly.”

“Ye broke yer word!” Murtagh shouted. “Ye promised ye’d stay here while I took yer woman to get training! Ye canna be leavin’ the house, ye fool! Do ye even  _ ken _ how many people are after ye? What would they do if they saw ye just putterin’ about in the open!?”

"I dinna need ye ordering me about like a wee lad!"

"Perhaps I wouldna need to if ye pulled that thick skull out o' yer arse. What the bloody HELL were ye THINKIN' lad?!"

Jamie’s fists clenched at his sides. Young Fergus began backing away from the group.

“Murtagh, really,” Claire snapped, bringing the attention of all three males to her. “Why don’t you run to the kitchen, Fergus? You’re welcome to anything you can find. We’ll be back soon.”

The boy scampered off, leaving the adults to argue in relative peace.

"I will do what I must-"

"Aye, do what ye must to get captured and then where would ye-"

"Nothing. Happened."

"This time."

Jamie's eyes flashed a blue so brilliant it looked almost white.

"I wilna let-"

"Jamie, he's right."

Jamie swung on her, the fury on his face making her heart stutter.

"Are ye no’ my wife, Claire? Are ye no’ mine to protect for God's sake?"

"I didn't need protection, James Fraser, I needed you HERE waiting for me. Everything was in hand."

"Oh aye," Jamie said softly. "Aye, in hand. What would ye say when I tell ye that this lad was hired to trail ye?"

Everyone stopped.

“What?” Murtagh bit down on the single word. 

“I was worried someone might have found ye both. So… I took a quick Look.”

"Ye used yer  _ Sight _ ? Despite everything that's happened over the last months? How many times ye came close to bleeding out and dyin' before our verra eyes?"

“Aye!” Jamie shouted back. “I did use my Sight! And it’s a good thing I did! I watched while Claire walked down the street and into a shop. The boy had been followin’ ye both. Studied yer faces so they’d ken ye no matter what.”

Claire’s heart skipped and began racing. They’d been followed and no one had known.  _ Murtagh _ hadn’t known.

“Y… You’re sure?”

Jamie nodded, eyes still raging.

“Aye, I’m sure. I kent what was happening when I Saw it.”

“Ye mean to say a wee thing like that trailed me and I didna ken it?”

“Is that no’ what I just said?!”

Murtagh waved dismissively at him, which seemed to irritate him further.

“Wi’out yer healer,” Murtagh muttered. “I still have nightmares of the last time ye Looked wi’out her!”

“Look,” Jamie said, waving at himself. “I’m fine. No’ even a headache.”

“So let me get this straight,” Murtagh said, pacing again. “ _ Not only _ did ye Look wi’out yer bloody healer about, but then ye left the damn house  _ and _ brought the wee spy home?! Of all the bone-headed, stupid things to do!”

Jamie’s eyes sparked as he met Murtagh’s glare, both men one word away from killing each other. Claire exhaled slowly, trying to remain calm.

“Murtagh, could you leave please?” she asked, meeting Jamie’s glance with a cold one of her own. “I want to talk to him. Alone. Please.”

Murtagh made a scottish sound of derision and shook his head, muttering Gaelic curses as he left the room, closing the door behind him. 

The wee spy was in the kitchen, digging his grubby paws into everything he could reach. He sat on the countertop, legs dangling.

“Put that down! Ye canna be eatin’ out o’ the box wi’ yer hands!”

The boy gave him a flat look.

“Why not?” he asked, digging his hand back into the box.

“Because it…” Murtagh was temporarily unsure what to say. “It isna sanitary. When was the last time ye even washed yer hands?”

“Yesterday.”

Murtagh nearly yelled at the lad when he saw the glint in his eyes. Suddenly the voices from the other end of the cottage got louder. The boy flinched as Jamie’s shouts echoed from the room he shared with Claire. Murtagh sighed, exasperated with this whole damn mess. If the lad was here, it was for a reason. He knew Jamie would never have brought someone home that would have put him - or Claire - in danger.

“Come on then, laddie,” Murtagh said gruffly. “Let’s get ye somethin’ to eat.”

“Oui? You did not bring enough when you came today.”

Pursing his lips, he ruffled the boy’s hair and pushed him gently out the door.

“Aye, weel, I didna ken Jamie had brought home a stray. Christ, lad. Did ye eat at all?”

Fergus shrugged.

“Jamie said I could eat as much as I liked if I came back with him. He promised you would keep me safe.”

_ Of course he did _ , Murtagh thought to himself. 

“Weel, so long as ye dinna prove to be a double agent.”

Murtagh drove the young man into town and let him choose where to eat. They would pick up supplies for the kitchen after.

“So, Fergus,” Murtagh said while the boy gulped down his drink. “How long have ye been followin’ us?”

“Since you arrived in Paris, I think. Maybe a little after.”

“How did you come to spy for these people?”

Fergus stuffed more bread into his mouth. It reminded him of Jamie at that age, constantly eating whatever he could get his hands on.

“I picked a man’s pocket. I’m a very good pickpocket. But he found out and here I am.”

“Do they know where we are? Do I need to get us out of Paris?”

He shook his head.

“No. I could not follow you out here. It was too far. And I could never follow you back to wherever you stayed in the city either. You move like a shadow.”

Murtagh smiled a little, taking pride in his ability to keep his godson safe.

“Have ye finished?”

Fergus pointed to the scraps on Murtaghs plate.

“Are you going to finish that?”

Once both plates were practically licked clean, Murtagh took Fergus to get more groceries. Again.

“If you do not want me to stay,” Fergus said in a very quiet voice. “I will go. I can disappear again. I do not want to make everyone angry.”

Murtagh sighed.

“It isna yer fault, lad. No’ really. It’s only that we’re worried about Jamie. His life is in danger if the wrong people find him. And he can be a bloody stubborn man.”

“Will she be angry with him for long? She sounded very angry.”

At that, Murtagh laughed.

“She’ll be angry as long as she needs, lad. Dinna fash o’er much. If I’ve learned anything about our Claire, it’s that she can be just as stubborn as our Jamie. But they love each other. They’ll be alright.”

Pulling into the driveway, Fergus helped bring in the groceries, already munching on something. The cottage was quiet and Murtagh smiled.

“Fergus,” he said. “What was that game ye had earlier?”

Fergus broke into a wide grin.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Murtagh and Fergus are out getting more groceries, Claire and Jamie continue their discussion. Two stubborn, strong-willed people deep in argument makes for a combustible situation.

Neither Claire nor Jamie broke eye contact as Murtagh left the room and shut the door behind him. Her heart was pounding from her temples to her fingertips; it was as if some force would result in chaos if either of them moved. Jamie stood, tall and broad, a Viking Highlander ready for whatever battle came his way. Claire stood her ground.

“I’m not your enemy, Jamie.”

He looked at her, wary, but his posture notably relaxed.

“I ken that,” he said stiffly.

“Then perhaps you should listen to me,” she said, trying to be calm as the anger bubbled up again. “You are my husband, not my savior. I can take care of myself for God’s sake. Did you even THINK of what losing you would have-”

“Aye, I am yer husband! What is that worth when ye canna even trust me enough to-”

Claire huffed.

_ “That isn’t the point!” _

“Then what the hell is?!”

“I  _ do _ trust you, Jamie. I wouldn’t be in bloody Paris if I didn’t. But part of that trust is knowing that while I’m with Raymond, you’re here and safe. You can take care of yourself, I know that. But if something had happened to you…” Claire stopped, her throat forming a lump she couldn’t speak around.

Jamie shook his head, the tips of his ears still red.

“But nothing  _ did _ happen, Claire.”

“This time, yes. Nothing happened. You can’t know everything. You can’t  _ See _ everything. You aren’t God, Jamie!”

A long silence stretched between them. This wasn’t what Claire had been hoping for when she’d left Raymond’s. All she’d wanted was to disappear into her bedroom with Jamie for a day and not come out until Murtagh insisted they leave. She turned away, arms hugging her middle, blinking back tears. Fighting with him like this hurt her deeply.

"Ay, that’s plain enough! D’ye think I’d have chosen this life? For me? For  _ you _ ?”

He gestured at her before running his fingers through his hair.

“D’ye think I don’t pray every day o’ my life for this Curse not to kill ye? Christ, Claire! I told ye, I Saw my brother die." 

His voice cracked on the last word, the pain of that loss coming back in full force. Claire stilled, anger flickering at the sound of his voice, broken and far away. He was breathing heavily and she turned around, startled at the movement in his eyes. They churned like a whirlpool, sapphire blue shooting through shades of the night sky. She could feel the tension coming off of him. Fear and anger held in check. She swallowed,  anger turning to tenderness . 

"What do you feel right now?"

He raised an eyebrow, looking slightly startled. 

"I thought I've been telling ye," he said gruffly. She rolled her eyes a bit but stepped closer. 

"Your eyes change. Did you know that?"

"Aye, I kent," he replied, tension seeming to still the closer she came to him. 

She looked up and searched the unusual depths of his eyes.

“They’re so different, you know. I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“Da said it was the mark of a Fraser Seer.”

Reaching up, she tucked one of his curls behind his ear. His hair was getting long again. He really should cut it.  It was easier for him to hide who he was when his hair was short. Wearing a cap cut down on the likelihood of someone identifying him.

“They’re constantly shifting. When you come to me in the middle of the night,  desperate and hungry , they’re so dark they’re almost black. When you get angry, they turn a bright blue, like turquoise. The silver-blue… I think that comes when you’re hurting or upset.”

Then and there, as he stared into her whisky eyes, he let go of the anger. There was no point in it. He’d jumped to the defensive because he’d felt attacked. But now, with none but Claire around him, he couldn’t remain angry.   
  
"I'm sorry," he said, shoulders slumping as her arms came around him and she pressed her cheek to his chest.

"I know," she whispered. "I am too. I shouldn't have shouted like that."   
  
"But I scared ye," he said, finishing her thought. She nodded against his shirt. "Aye well," he continued, placing a kiss on the top of her head, "I was a wee bit scairt myself.  The verra thought of…”

He sighed, shaking his head. 

“I understand,” she replied, tightening her hold around his middle.

A little while later, Jamie stirred  and offered his hand, glancing to the short hallway that lead to their bedroom.

“Whisky?” he asked, lifting one ruddy eyebrow.

Claire chuckled and took him to the kitchen first.

“Always!”

They walked down to their room, the sight giving Claire comfort. Jamie sat down on the bed, patting the space beside him. She set the bottle and glasses down on the sideboard and joined him, cuddling up close.

“So. Tell me about this Master Raymond. Is he a handsome fellow?”

Claire snorted.

“No. He’s a bit… froggish, you might say. But he’s a smart man. And he knows more about my Gift than I do.”

“Weel I should hope he kens about it. So what have ye learned so far?”

Excitedly, Claire sat up and got into a more comfortable position.

“Well according to Raymond and some of his texts, everyone has a sort of energy. That energy has different colors, which mean different things. He said Murtagh is protective and loyal.”

“Aye,” Jamie agreed with a nod. “That’s verra true. Do ye have a color about ye, then?”

Claire grinned and wiggled a little on the bed.

“I do! He said in his experience, Healers have a blue energy around them. Like your mum. But my Gift is even more than that. He called me  _ La Dame Blanche. _ ”

“Oh did he? Am I to call ye that, then?”

“Only if you want. But he told me this Gift is why I’m a doctor. Because it speaks to me on such a deep level. Most Healers focus on one thing or another, sometimes two. But my Gift is the whole  body .”

Jamie waited patiently for her to tell the whole story.

“We haven’t quite sorted out how I can make it happen on command, but I know where the power for my Gift is now.”

“Oh aye? Like when I Look, I ken how to do it?”

“Yes. I can feel it, when I concentrate. But I haven’t quite got the hang of how to make it happen yet. Raymond is excited about my potential, though.”

Jamie tucked a curl behind her ear, gazing at her with pride and adoration.

“That’s wonderful, Claire. I’m so proud of ye. 

“You said you Looked when you discovered Fergus?”

“Aye. But I didna have any headache or nosebleed after.”

Claire hopped to her feet and motioned for him to join her.

“Still. Practice makes perfect. Let me try?”

“Anytime ye like, Sassenach.”

Closing her eyes, she reached out and placed her hands on his head. Carefully, she felt for the now familiar energy within her and drew on it. Jamie wasn’t injured, so she didn’t pull much. Jamie let out a gasp and she opened her eyes. His eyes were churning quickly and practically glowing, sparks of silver through the blue.

“Oh, a nighean. I’m so proud of ye. That was the fastest ye ever Healed me.”

“I didn’t think that would work!”

He kissed her, feeling her smile against his lips.

“I never doubted ye, Sassenach.”

Claire smiled up at him.

“That should last you a while, I think.”

“What d’ye mean?”

“Well…”

Claire bit her lip, causing Jamie to frown. It was unlike her to keep something quiet when it excited her.

“What is it, Sassenach?”

“It’s just… Well… Essentially he compared me to a power source. For you. I mean to say… When you’re around me, the effects of your visions lessen. Even if you’re not near me all of the time. You… Take a bit of me with you, for a time. I think.”

Jamie’s mouth twitched as he stepped closer.

“Oh. So yer like a wee battery pack, then?”

“I suppose so.”

Claire smiled, blushing beautifully. Jamie swallowed the urge to laugh and grasped her by the hips instead. He looked down at her, heart fit to burst.

“Christ, Claire,” he said, shaking his head and softly cupping her cheek. “Every moment parted from ye tears my guts out.”

She smiled , her eyes turning soft and her expression happy . 

“I missed you too, Jamie.”

His arms tightened around her and he sucked in a breath as she tugged his shirt out of his jeans.

“I wrote you. Every day,” Claire said softly, looking up at him, golden eyes shining with emotion.

She met his kiss, her lips soft and warm and home. He picked her up, holding her close as he swayed them back and forth, her arms around his neck  as her toes lightly brushed his shins. 

“You make me feel so small,” she said and he laughed. 

“Ye  _ are _ small, Sassenach,” he said, holding her tighter. “But ye’ve the devil’s own courage, aye?”

Claire hummed an amused sound, burying her face in his neck as he continued to rock gently.  After a few moments, he chuckled softly. Claire pulled back, questioning. He kissed her nose.

“I was just wondering about that  battery pack, aye? How it works…”

Claire smiled, glancing at his lips, then back up again.

“I believe it’s  _ verra _ complicated,” she teased, pressing her forehead to his.

Jamie made an amused noise, backing toward the bed and sitting down with her on his lap.

“Weel, Sassenach,” he whispered in broad Scots. “I’ve got ye all to myself for  the next few hours . I mean to take advantage of it.”

Some time later, Claire lay tucked into his side. He ran his fingertips over the soft, smooth muscle of her leg that she’d draped over his middle. She stirred, looking up at him and smiling.

“Hmm…” he mumbled, smelling the flowery scent of her hair.

They breathed together a few moments, hearts beating as one as the tension was reduced to a low simmer of a different kind. Her hair curled madly about and he brushed away a few damp strands from her face. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes, and his heart turned over. 

"Yer so beautiful, mo nighean donn," he whispered. "How do ye feel?"

He felt boneless as a jellyfish himself.

"Wonderful."

Claire laughed softly,  perhaps remembering how much she'd just had her way with him , and looked up at him through her lashes. Damn, his heart rate was beginning to speed up again. Faerie wife, indeed. 

"Mm…” she mumbled, moving her hand lower to indicate that she knew perfectly well what his body had in mind. "Ready for a recharge so soon?" she asked, rising on her elbow to kiss the damp skin over his heart. 

"Aye," he choked, sucking in a breath as Claire's hand found his cock and her mouth found his nipple. "Ah… Christ… I… I suppose I couldna trouble ye for an outlet?"

Claire collapsed against him, shaking with mirth until her eyes watered. Jamie laughed, rolling over her and giving her a mock accusatory glare.

"Was that a foolish thing to say?"

Claire made a sound as if to speak but broke out giggling again. 

"Are you laughing at me?" he asked, grinning down at her. 

"Yes!" she gasped, eyes shining. "James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, I have never laughed so hard in my whole life."

"Aye, well," he said ruefully, eyes roaming over her flushed, breathless body. 

Claire kissed him, smiling against his lips as she tried to keep from laughing again. Jamie pulled her leg over his hip.

"What about you, mo nighean donn?" he asked, feeling her back curl to bring her flush against him. "Do ye need a plug in JAMMF, then?"

He entered her quickly and she made a noise that sounded like a muffled laugh and a moan combined. Holding her close, Jamie smiled against her shoulder as he moved within her.

"Tell me, Sassenach," he whispered, pulling her hip roughly toward him at his next thrust. "Do ye need one?" 

"Ah! Jesus…” she whimpered, arching against him. "Jamie, please…” she added, nails digging into his back, urging him. 

"Tell me, Sorcha," he gasped, giving her the friction she sought.

"Yes… yes I need it… you…  _ God, Jamie! _ "

She pulled him, forcing him over her, golden eyes wild and begging. He grabbed her hands, threading his fingers through hers as he stretched her arms over her head, heard the metal of her ring clink against the headboard as he gave her what she sought. 

She was crying out, her fingers clutching his as she met his every move. For all he knew, he was crying out with her. His heart was pounding as he drove Claire past pleasure and into the nothingness of completion. He slowed, riding the wave with her, pulling his hands free of hers and cupping her face between his palms as she came back to him. She reached a shaky hand up to touch his cheek, a satisfied smile curling her lips as she looked at him. 

"How do you feel?" she asked softly, pulling him down beside her again and tucking herself against his side. Seeing her eyes close, he smiled sleepily. 

"I dinna think I feel anything, just now."


	23. William Fraser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a ficlet that goes with the rest of the series.

William Fraser sat in the study, grimly determined. His headaches had been getting worse, but he pushed for answers. He could ignore the pain for the sake of his beloved brother. The lad was the most powerful Seer the Fraser family had ever seen, and that was what worried Willie. Mam had been a Healer, with her own Gift. He knew that was what had kept Da alive as his visions got stronger. But young Jamie had no one.

Murtagh did his best, trying to help the lad learn the way of the Sight. Taught him to always be careful, to never Look into your own future - all the things a Fraser Seer needed to know.

“Willie?”

He quickly closed the computer and hid his notes before turning to the door.

“How many times do ye have to get beat before ye remember to knock?!” Willie shouted in mock outrage.

Jamie smirked and knocked on the open door. The smirk was meant to hide the flash of fear and terror in those swirling blue eyes. But Willie knew better. The lad’s first vision had been of his own brother’s death. Imagine being eleven years old and Seeing your brother die. Willie saw the remembrance of that Seeing in Jamie’s eyes each time he looked at his little brother.

“Probably a time or two more.”

“Aye, wi’ a head as thick as yers. What are ye doin’ here, anyway?”

“Murtagh sent me to ask if ye’d come help wi’ Jenny’s goats.”

They might have been twins, if they’d been born a little closer together. 

“What? Have I got something on my face?” Jamie asked, wiping his face.

“No, lad. Ye dinna have anything on yer face. Go on. I’ll be out wi’ ye in a moment.”

Jamie nodded and turned to leave. Once Willie was sure he was gone, he Looked. 

_ It was the same man he’d Seen before. Perhaps this time he would catch a name or a place. So far all he knew was that the man spoke French. He puttered around his shop for a while, speaking with the few people that came in. _

_ “Maître Raymond!” _

Willie pulled himself out of the vision and gasped, his head throbbing. He had a name. With shaking hands, Willie pulled his laptop open and began searching. The shop reminded him of an old apothecary shop, so that narrowed things down. This would still take some time to work out, time he didn’t have at the moment.

Three days later, he waited for everyone to go to sleep. Murtagh was concerned about him, but this was a priority. Jamie would get headaches soon, if he hadn’t already. Christ the poor lad had no idea what would happen to him.

The throbbing in Willie’s head that had started just after he’d Looked hadn’t faded. Now it was getting worse, making his vision swim. Fumbling for paper and a working pen, he drafted a letter for his baby brother.

_ Sawny _

_ This isn’t your fault. If I could take away what you Saw, I would. No one should See their loved ones die - and your first vision, no less. You did nothing wrong, my brother. My only wish is that I could be here longer, that I could help you more. _

_ I’ve been looking for someone to help you. Your Gift is the strongest in centuries, which means your life is in more danger than you can even imagine. I want you to be happy and to live a good life. I think the man I’ve found can help you live a long time. Perhaps you can find yourself a woman and have a family. _

_ When you find  _ **_her_ ** _ , don’t let her slip through your fingers. And don’t be afraid of her, or what changes she may bring to your life. Embrace it, don’t close yourself off. You need someone to be there for you. _

_ I love you, Jamie. You’re a good brother and I can see the man you’ll one day become. Trust Murtagh and do as he says. He’s loyal to us and to you. He will keep you safe from those who want to exploit your Gift.  _

_ I don’t know why I started writing this, I just… I want you to… Please be safe. _

_ Your loving brother, _

_ William _

Folding up the note, Willie stuck it in his journal. Closing everything down, he got up from his desk and started for his bed. The pain in his head exploded and he collapsed to the ground. No! Not yet! Jamie was too young, he needed to be around to teach him about his Gift. There was so much left for him to do. Things Jamie needed to know… 

Jenny was the first to find him. She’d Heard his pain, though no sound had come from his open mouth. Her bedroom door slammed hard enough to wake the other inhabitants. Murtagh was close on her heels, instantly alert at the stillness in the house.

As soon as she opened the door, they saw him. His body was bowed, his face twisted in agony. Blood stained his face, starting at his nose and pooling beneath him.  _ Oh God… Not again. This is what Brian looked like. _

Murtagh’s head snapped up at the sound of pain coming from the doorway.  _ Jamie. Oh Christ… _

The lad was pale as a sheet, looking at the scene before him with detached horror. Jenny shook as she held William, agonized sobs tearing from her throat. Murtagh stood slowly.

“Jamie, lad…” he said, voice hoarse.

Jamie’s eyes, a replica of his father’s, grew darker the longer he stared at his brother. 

“Willie…”

“It isne yer fault, lad. Ye didna do this.”

Jamie blinked slowly, sinking to his knees beside Jenny, who rocked Willie back and forth. As Murtagh watched the remaining Gifted Frasers mourn the loss of their brother, he knew Jamie’s time ticked closer. Each moment that passed brought him closer to the fates of the men that had come before him.

_ I swear to ye, Ellen, Brian, and William. I will protect Jamie wi’ my own life. I will see him safe and fetch him a Healer, no matter what it takes. _

“Good,” came Jenny’s raw voice. “I willna lose another brother.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire discuss the future and what it might hold for them.

Jamie stared down at the woman in his arms. She slept hard, curled around his arm. Their legs were tangled in the sheets and each other, but he was comfortable. A peace stole over him, suffusing every fiber of himself with  **her** . Claire. His Sassenach. His Sorcha.

“Then let amorous kisses dwell,” he whispered, his breath stirring a few strands of hair. “On our lips, begin and tell.”

She began shifting in his arms, turning her face upward. Eyes still closed, her lips met his in a sweet kiss.

“A thousand and a hundred score,” she whispered back. “A hundred and a thousand more.”

Jamie exhaled slowly, feeling happier than he'd ever been. 

“I love ye, Claire.”

Her eyes opened, bright in the early morning sun,  and she smiled up at him. 

“I love you too, Jamie.”

Lips meeting his again, she began pushing herself on top of him. He’d just taken a delightful hold of her arse when a sharp knock on the door interrupted them.

“Claire. Ye need to pack. We need to leave soon.”

Jamie’s heart ached, painfully reminding him that he’d have to survive another week without her. He wanted to be selfish and  keep her there, with him , but she needed Raymond  if she was to learn how to use her Gift to its fullest potential. 

“I’m not ready to go yet,” Claire said quietly. “I feel like we didn’t get enough time.”

“Twenty-four hours isna much time, Sassenach.”

“I don’t want to go yet.”

Tucking a stray curl behind her ear, he smiled softly. 

“Come back to me, Claire Fraser,” he whispered,  fingers seeking the silver ring he'd placed on her hand.

That made her smile, despite the tears in her eyes.

“I will, James Fraser.”

“Good,” he said, kissing her tenderly. “Now, we should go and speak wi’ Murtagh or he’ll come bargin’ in here.”

*** 

They dressed quickly, heading out to find Murtagh. Fergus played with the wooden toy, his dark brows furrowed in concentration. 

“Where are yer bags, lass?” Murtagh asked.

“Murtagh,” Claire began. “Do we have to go today?”

“Do ye want to master yer Gift?”

“Of course I do. But… Couldn’t we maybe leave tomorrow?”

Murtagh glared at the pair of them.  Jamie looked down at her. 

“Claire, ye ken I want ye to stay but I dinna think-”

“Milord and Milady need their time together,” Fergus announced, eyes focused on his game.

“And what the hell would ye ken about that?”  Murtagh asked, eyebrows raised. 

Fergus smiled.

“More than you. Just let them be. What could one more day hurt,  non?”

“She has a lot to learn if she wants to keep the lad alive,” Murtagh said in a grumpy voice.  “You, ye wee rascal, havena been around enough to ken what is yer askin’. It's no’ as though they havena had time to…”

Murtagh flushed suddenly. Fergus smirked and said something crude in French.  Claire glanced at Jamie, saw his shameless grin, and elbowed him in the side before turning back to Murtagh. 

“Please?” Claire asked gently. “We’ll leave first thing tomorrow. I’d really just like some time to talk with Jamie.  You have to admit, it's been an unusual way to start a marriage .”

A few breathless moments passed by before Murtagh finally caved.

“Aye, fine. The lad and I will go find a way to  _ discreetly _ inform Master Raymond that ye’ll be late.  Dinna leave for God’s sake .”

“Thank you, Murtagh,” Jamie said, his hand resting on her hip. “I promise, tomorrow we wilna hinder the plan.”

Muttering unfamiliar Gaelic words, Murtagh steered Fergus out of the cottage. Claire absorbed the quiet that filled the house, leaning against Jamie.

“ Shall we ?” he asked in a wry tone, offering her his arm with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. 

Claire chuckled, accepting it, allowing Jamie to lead her back to their room. Once there, he turned to kiss her. 

“You know,” she mumbled against his lips as he lay her on the bed again. “When I said I wanted to talk with you, I meant it.”

Jamie hummed in amusement and kissed her forehead. 

“Aye, I ken. Asking me to keep my hands from ye, knowing you’ll be gone tomorrow, though…”

She laughed and nudged his side, making him settle down beside her. 

“Alright,” he said, eyes settling into a natural deep blue. “Where shall we start?” 

“Want to talk about the future?” Claire asked, face caught between a sheepish smile and a grimace.

“No,” Jamie replied dryly, tucking her into his side. “But I suppose we must. What is it that’s on yer mind, Sassenach?”

Claire took a deep breath, trying to find a place to start. 

“ I’m not asking you to Look or if you’ve Seen anything . I was just thinking… I’ve been gone from my job for a while now. I’m not sure… I may not have a job to go back to, once we return to Scotland. Even then… With how dangerous  our lives are , I’m not sure I could keep such a steady job.”

Jamie nodded, frowning slightly as he twirled one of her curls around his finger.

“Aye. But a Healer is what you’re meant to be. We’ll find a way to get ye workin’.”

“Are you sure? Won’t it make things more dangerous for you?”

He shrugged a little, his brow creasing in thought.

“Maybe. I’ll get Murtagh thinkin’ about it though. He’s good at thinkin’ of things to solve impossible situations.  And ye ken,” he said, a little shakily, “ye can always go back. If ye wish. Might be safer for ye, even.”

Claire froze, eyes meeting his. He meant it, but the tightness of his mouth and the way his hands held her tight gave away his true feelings on the matter. She reached up and stroked his cheek. 

“No,” she said, softly but definitely. “I belong where you are.”

Jamie’s body relaxed,  the agitated churning depths slowing as he looked at her. 

“Thank God,” he said seriously. “And God help you,” he added, smiling when she laughed at him. 

They lay for a bit, taking comfort in each other’s presence . 

“Sassenach?”

“Mm?”

“Would it ease yer mind a bit to call your friend? Geillis?”

She nodded, sitting up.

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“No’ a bit. I’m going to Look for Dougal, now I have my wee charger back,” he said, patting her thigh.

Jamie laughed as he ducked her slap to the arm.

“Oaf,” she said with as much dignity as she could, while trying not to laugh herself. 

After a little hunting, Claire found her phone and dialed Geillis’ number. It rang a few times before she answered.

“Hello?”

“Geillis? It’s Claire.”

“Christ Claire! I haven’t heard from you in ages!”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Geillis huffed in irritation.

“I thought I was your friend. And you won’t tell me where you are or when you’re coming home. Where the hell have you been!?”

“I’m…” Claire looked over at Jamie who still had his eyes closed. “Out of town. I honestly don’t know when I’m coming back.”

The line went quiet for a long time and Claire thought Geillis might have ended the call.

“Claire, I’m honestly worried about you. This isn’t like you. First you break up with Frank and now you disappear?”

“You told me you were glad I broke up with him.”

“And I am, he wasn’t good for you. But… Disappearing like this?”

Claire took a breath, knowing if she didn’t give Geillis something, her best friend wouldn’t let it go.

“Look, I know it’s sudden. But I’ve met someone. I wanted to get away and clear my head after Frank and, well…”

“Ooohhh has this new man cleared your pipes as well?”

“Geillis!”

The other woman laughed.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said. “So where did you meet this guy? Is he just a good time or will you keep him for a while? You know what I would do.”

Claire looked down at the silver ring on her finger and smiled.

“I think it’s safe to say it’s serious.”

One bright blue eye snapped open and met her gaze. 

“Will I get to meet this guy? Or are you going to keep him all to yourself?”

“Probably eventually. But for now, I’d rather him be a mystery.”

“Ugh,” Geillis complained. “Fine. I know you well enough to know not to argue once you’ve made up your mind. Just… Please be careful?”

Claire frowned at the last statement.

“Of course. Um… you be careful too?”

“I will. Call me when you think you’re heading home, okay? I’ll make sure no one snoops in your room.”

“Thanks.”

***

While Claire made her phone call, Jamie focused his energy on one name, one face.

_ Dougal paced in an unfamiliar room. He looked angry, his lips twitching and his face red. A small suitcase sat on the bed, still closed. The phone in Dougal’s hand lit up and buzzed. _

_ “Did ye find anything?” _

_ He waited for the reply. _

_ “What the hell do I pay ye for?” _

_ A second voice came from a corner of the room, making Dougal end his call. _

_ “I have something, brother.” _

Releasing his energy, Jamie did a few breathing exercises to relax and settle his mind. He lay back in the bed while Claire finished her conversation. She put her phone down on the bedside table and curled up next to him once more.

"Alright?" she asked, after a few moments. 

He tried to look reassuring, despite his underlying concern that not all was right with that vision. 

"He's no' close to us, at least. Frustrated and threatening someone over the phone. But he hasna found us yet, mo nighean donn."

His heart squeezed as she exhaled. Clearly, she was worried. If he was being honest, so was he. Something was coming.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion of Jamie and Claire's discussions of the future. Jamie finally releases his guilt over his brother William's death after receiving an unexpected message.

Claire began drawing invisible patterns on Jamie’s chest, trying to decide how to bring up her next topic.

“What do you plan to do with Fergus?”

“Keep him wi’ us.”

“We’re keeping the orphaned pickpocket?”

Jamie sat up to get a better look at her, studying her face. 

“Weel I canna set him on the streets of Paris. That’s no’ fair to him. And… I promised that I’d take care o’ him. He’s a child, Claire.”

“Yes, but you caught him  _ while _ he was following me. How are you so sure we can trust him?”

Claire listened as Jamie relayed Fergus’ colorful history to her. 

“And,” Jamie said, wrapping up his explanation. “He canna return to Bonnet. I’ve never met the man, myself, but I dinna trust him. No’ after what Fergus has told me about him.”

She met his eyes, electric blue and swirling slowly.

“I suppose you’re right. And you’re sure he’s not a spy for Bonnet? Until today, I’d never even heard that name before.” Claire put her palm on Jamie’s chest when he looked ready to get defensive. “I’m not saying we can’t take him with us or give him a home here. I’m just making sure you’ve thought this through.”

Jamie sighed, rubbing her back absently.

“Aye, I ken you’re lookin’ out for us. But Fergus told me he didna want to work for Bonnet  in the first place . Gave me his word that he wouldna turn us over to the man and I choose to believe him.”

“What does Bonnet want with you?” she asked tentatively. 

Jamie’s mouth compressed.

“From what I understand, he’s a member of the government branch lookin’ for me. Fergus said Bonnet is the man in charge and they’ve been huntin’ me for a long time.”

“And you haven’t Seen him before?”

Jamie shook his head.

“No. Whenever I Look for him, I usually get shadows or the backs of heads. No’ enough to identify a man. I havena had a name to Look for either. That makes things difficult.”

“Will you Look right now?”

Jamie shook his head. 

“Nah. Bonnet doesna ken where I am. He canna track Fergus now either, so he’ll be left wandering about Paris.”

Claire nodded and relaxed.

“Alright. If you trust him, then I trust you.”

Jamie settled her more comfortably against him.  They sat in silence for a little while, simply enjoying each other’s company. 

“Jamie?”

“Hm?”

“I was just thinking… about the onset of Gifts. When we were at Lallybroch, you talked about eleven being an early age.”

“Aye,” he replied, tone encouraging her to continue. 

“It's just… how this works. Gifts, I mean. The different sorts, the ways in which the person can use them, the manifestation around the age of puberty… it's just… fascinating.”

“Do ye have any theories?” Jamie asked, looking down at her, heart squeezing as she bit her lip in thought. 

“Well, to me, it seems like the brain is the control center. Which is plausible because the brain is the control center for the body so why wouldn't Gifts originate there? The limbic system is a series of connections that controls our responses, emotions, personality… I wonder if there's something about us that is predisposed to Gifts. If they are bound to manifest all along or if they are triggered by circumstance.”

Jamie made an amused Scottish noise. 

“What?” Claire asked, looking up and seeing his grin. “Don't tell me you haven't thought about this.”

“Oh, I have. Countless times. How. Why. In the end, I stopped torturing myself and accepted the Sight as a part of me. I may no’ know the reason but I made the choice to help those that I could with my Gift.”

They both ignored the unsaid  _ for as long as I could _ . 

“Is that why you had the shop? To help people?”

Jamie sighed.

“Aye. I couldna stand the running anymore. I needed purpose.”

“I bet Murtagh was thrilled,” Claire replied, grinning. 

Jamie snorted. 

“I didna tell him, the first time. He walked in on me doing my ‘fortune telling’ to a bachelorette party. I had to tell the bride to mind her betrothed,” he said with a grimace. “I swear Murtagh’s beard fluffed up like an angry cheetie when he saw what I was up to.”

Claire shook with laughter, imagining all too well Murtagh’s response to such a scene. 

“Good to see you've always been stubborn, then,” she teased, laying her head on his shoulder. 

“Oh aye. Stubborn as rocks, we Frasers.”

Claire let out an amused noise, then they settled into silence again, listening to each other breathe. 

“What’s it like?” she asked, squeezing his hand. “To See? How does it work?”

“Ye mean when I Look, what is it I do?”

“Yes. How it feels. What you See.”

She sat up, the diagnostic glint in her eye making Jamie smile. 

"Clearly you have some control when you're awake. Raymond has me working to figure out how I make my Gift work. And mine occurs along side yours. Maybe the way you See is a clue to how I Heal."

"There's an idea," Jamie said, shifting himself up to sit more comfortably against the headboard. 

"Aye well, yer right, I can control what I focus my visions on. In the beginning.." 

Jamie paused at the memory of his first vision. He glanced at her, hesitant, and she squeezed his hand. Clearing his throat, he continued. 

"In the beginning, they sort of… took over my senses. I was surrounded by whatever the vision was. I couldna pull myself out.  I kent of the Fraser Gifts, of course but…”

He stopped, shrugging. 

“I’m sure it's hard to grasp what it's truly like,” Claire said softly. 

Jamie nodded.

“Aye.  That still happens sometimes, when I sleep."

“Do you dream?” she asked. “Real dreams, I mean. Not visions”

Jamie furrowed his brow in thought. 

“Ye ken, I’m no’ sure. I think so but… mostly, I see vague images. Not strong visions but… I suppose I’d say they're like dark shadows. Things I could See if I wanted, were I to move forward.”

“I used to,” he added looking down at her. “Then the side effects of my Gift began. No matter where or how the Gift originates, there are inevitable boundaries in science and magic.”

Claire shivered, feeling the gooseflesh rise on her arms. Jamie rubbed her arms and kissed her forehead. 

“Aye, well. I was fortunate to have my family around me. To grow up knowin’ what could come and what to do. I’ve kept those lessons wi’ me.”

Claire watched as he pulled away and reached down, trying to pull something out from under the mattress.  

“What have you got there?”

“Da taught Willie to keep a journal of the things he Saw, no matter when he had the visions. Willie was good at makin’ sure I did too.”

“I remember seeing dozens of journals in the library at Lallybroch.”

Jamie nodded, setting the worn leather book on the bed between them.

“This isna one o’ mine. It’s Willie’s, since mine are locked up safe at Lallybroch. Murtagh wanted to bring it wi’ us so he could be sure to find the right man.”

“Why write it all down? I would think visions of the future would be something you wouldn’t want on paper.”

“Weel, that’s a point, Sassenach. But there’s more to it than that. We keep them at Lallybroch for a reason.”

Claire wiggled until she sat in a comfortable position. 

“What else is there?”

“It’s easier to talk and understand things when they’re written down. Willie and I… We used to share our journals all the time. There were visions I didn’t share wi’ him, like when I Saw him die. But we shared almost everything else.”

“Willie knew everything you Saw?”

Jamie nodded, opening the journal.

“Christ I’ve no’ looked at this in…” He took a breath and kept turning the pages. “He and Da would talk about what they Saw. Always write it down when it’s fresh, so ye dinna forget a bit. Taught us to never worry about what it means until later.”

“You must miss them,” Claire said, looking at the neat handwriting on the page.

“Aye. Verra much. I kent… I kent what would happen to Willie and…”

Jamie paused, swallowing as he flipped through the pages of the journal. 

“Oh Jesus,” he said, nearly dropping the notebook when he reached the end. 

“What is it?” Claire asked, worried at the expression on his face. 

She leaned closer to see what he'd found. On the inside of the back flap near the binding was a small drawing. Jamie ran his thumb delicately over it, slowly following the curved form of the tiny etched snake. 

“Sawney,” he whispered. 

Claire touched his shoulder and he looked at her, eyes  churning dark blue . His mouth curved a little as he looked at her.

“Sawney is a play on Alexander, Sassenach. It's what Willie used to call me. I could never say it right as a wee lad. I’d always say ‘Sssssawney’.”

Jamie chuckled.

“Willie used to poke fun and say I sounded like a wee snake,” he said quietly. 

Claire smiled, kissing his shoulder as she looked down at the little drawing again. 

“What's that?” Jamie asked, sounding surprised. 

He bent the notebook outward, stretching the inner binding to reveal what looked like a small hidden pocket with a tab sticking out. He pulled carefully, extracting a piece of folded paper that was hidden there. “Sawney” was written on the outside. 

“Jesus…” Jamie said blankly, hands shaking slightly. 

Claire squeezed his arm in support. He looked at her in acknowledgment before unfolding the paper. 

“Oh God,” he whispered, voice breaking. 

The words on the page seemed to jump out at him as he scanned it frantically. These were truly Willie’s final thoughts. Memories of that day flitted through his mind, bringing the pain with them. 

True to form, Willie did his best to set Jamie’s mind at ease from beyond the grave. For most of his life, Jamie had carried the guilt of Willie’s death. He’d never told anyone how much it had weighed on him, but Willie knew. So he’d done everything in his power to find a Healer for Jamie, someone who would be able to keep him alive. 

One of the things Jamie regretted the most about Willie’s death was never saying goodbye. He’d Seen it happen, and still hadn’t been able to say what he wanted in time. But here, in his hand, were the words unsaid. Willie had said goodbye in his own way and given Jamie the closure he’d needed.

_ Willie did always ken what to say to me when I needed him, _ Jamie thought soberly. He was incredibly grateful to have Claire beside him; his new rock and shelter in this stormy life.

“Rest in peace, brother,” Jamie said softly, staring down at the page.

He splayed a hand over the letter, trembling fingers not quite touching the precise scrawl that adorned the pages. His breath caught and Claire immediately wrapped her arms around him, murmuring soft things and stroking his hair as he went quietly to pieces, letting the guilt and shame leave him after all of these years.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire learns a lot more about her gift from Master Raymond before an unexpected interruption turns her life upside down.

“Focus, Madonna,” Raymond said sharply. 

The line of crimson on his palm was getting bigger, the blood beginning to pool. Raymond had shocked her when he’d pulled out a penknife and slashed his own hand.

“Heal it,” he’d told her, holding out his hand in offering.

Try as she might, she couldn’t call on that  _ other _ part of herself, the part that allowed her to  _ know _ a wound. So she stood holding his hand, watching the blood seep out.

“I can’t! That isn’t how this has ever worked!”

Raymond touched her shoulder with his good hand, voice firm but encouraging. 

“You can! Draw on your power, feel it inside you. Call to your Red Man!”

Claire’s breath caught, longing for Jamie seeping through her like the blood dripping through Master Raymond’s fingers.  She conjured up an image of Jamie, kneeling before the fireplace, his back to her. Then a sudden push of energy flowed from her into Raymond’s hand unlike anything she’d ever felt before.  When she’d healed Jamie’s headaches, it was as if a tingle ran through her veins. This time, it was lightning tearing through her body, pouring out into Raymond. It stopped as suddenly as it had started, leaving her exhausted.  She dropped gracelessly onto the couch and Raymond sat beside her,  reaching to touch her cheek. 

“Madonna? Look at me, Madonna.”

Her body felt suddenly cold as sweat covered her  and her muscles trembled . 

“Wh… What happened?” she asked.

Raymond held up his hand, still smeared with blood. But there was no wound.

“I… I’ve never been able to…” she swallowed, staring at Raymond’s face. “How?”

“You are  _ La Dame Blanche _ . This is your Gift.”

His words echoed back to her and fear gripped her heart.

_ Call to your Red Man! _

Did he know who Jamie was? Had he seen something? What if he worked for the people hunting Jamie?

“D-do you know my husband?” Claire asked slowly.

Raymond blinked up at her,  then gave a look of understanding. 

“No, my lady. I do not know him. It is his aura which leads me to call him Red Man.”

“But you’ve never met him. How can you know what color his aura is?”

“Your connection to him is… strong, Madonna. Like nothing I have ever seen before.”

Claire  stared at him, searching, but saw and heard no lie. She  pressed her fingers against her temples and sighed.

“What does that mean, Raymond?”

He took a deep breath and settled into his seat.

“Gifts are unique and often rare, especially ones as powerful as yours and your husband’s. Sometimes two Gifts can be complementary, working together to make the other stronger. Your own Gift has grown even in the short time I’ve known you. I believe that is due, in part, to your husband.”

“So… You’re saying that my Gift gets more powerful the longer I’m around…” she hesitated.

“Yes,” Raymond said, interrupting her. “And his Gift will get stronger and more balanced by being around you. Complementary Gifts, see?”

“Let us take a short break, yes? I’ll go get us something to eat,  _ La Dame Blanche _ .  You’ve done remarkably well, in such short time. Do not be so hard on yourself, mm?”

Claire watched Raymond walk away, her heart filled with pride from his praises.  _ La Dame Blanche _ . She swallowed, blinking back tears as she thought of Jamie and the last night they shared together, three days before. Of the notebook filled with Willie’s visions, the letter that bore an older brother’s dying wishes, and the comfort Jamie had taken from that knowledge… and from her. 

_ "Claire," Jamie had said, his broken voice making her hold him tighter. "Claire, I need ye." _ _   
_ _   
_ __ She’d moved to sit on his lap, bending down to kiss him as he leaned against the headboard and his hands anchored at her hips, holding her close. 

_ "I'm here," she whispered against his lips, deft fingers unbuttoning his shirt. "I'm right here." _

_ "Ye always have been, Sorcha," he replied, emotion stark in the tone of his voice.  “God…”  _

_ He removed her shirt, hands and mouth touching and worshipping every inch of soft, pale skin he could reach.  _ _   
_ _   
_ __ "You promised me… you'd tell me what Sorcha meant. When we handfasted,” she whispered, arching back as his mouth found her breast. 

_ Claire was building, her heart beating heavily in her ears and down below. Jamie slowed her movements, unbuttoning her jeans, lips lightly grazing her neck. _

_ "I Saw ye,” he whispered, breath hot on her neck as she writhed against him. “So many times. When I dreamed, sometimes. Ye were there, bright and shining, but I could never touch ye." _

_ She met his eyes then, saw the lonely, naked hunger in the electric blue, that he'd been trapped in for so long.  _

_ "You can touch me now," she whispered, gently guiding his hand between her legs, gasping as he cupped her.  _ _   
_ _   
_ __ He smiled then, eyes blinded by tears as he watched her. 

_ "Sorcha means 'light', my Sassenach. My White Lady... I've loved and wanted and needed ye long before the day ye came into my shop, Claire Fraser.” _

_ “My love,” she whispered, exhaling shakily as she took him inside of her, rocking slowly as she met his lips again, not needing words to show him what she meant.  _

Claire blinked, wiping away a tear that ran down her cheek. She needed to focus. The more she worked at her lessons, the faster the time apart from Jamie would go. 

Raymond returned with a pair of sandwiches and two glasses of water on a tray. They ate quietly, Claire’s mind still filled with her memories. When they finished, he took the dishes back to the kitchen and she felt better.

“Okay then,” he said, turning to face her again. “I will not ask you to do a difficult Healing like that again. We will instead focus on your access and control of the small Healing you can do.”

Claire nodded and closed her eyes in concentration. A loud bang made her jump and both she and Raymond turned to see Fergus running into the room.

“Milady!” he gasped, face pale and eyes wide. “Milady!”

Claire felt the cold trickle of fear run down her spine, turning her veins to ice. 

“Fergus? What’s happened? Why aren’t you with-”

“He told me to run!” the young boy yelled. “I… I’m sorry! He made me go!”

If Claire hadn’t already been sitting, she thought she would have fainted.


	27. Chapter 27

Claire’s left hand clenched in her lap as her right moved to cover it, as if to protect Jamie by protecting the ring he’d given her. 

_ Gone. _

Raymond had pushed Fergus into a chair before pouring some tea to calm him. Claire felt cold as she stared at the boy.

“Okay,” Raymond said, turning to face Fergus. “Tell us what has happened.”

“Milord said he was tired, so he went to lay down for a little bit. He came back out to me with a worried look on his face.”

“Did he See something?” Claire asked, her voice hoarse.

Fergus shrugged,  his thin body strung tight as a bowstring. 

“I think so? He did not say, only told me to run. He looked pale. The security cameras showed people coming to the cottage and they were going to break in! Milord told me to run so that I might tell you what has happened.”

“They… they took him?”

Fergus came and knelt in front of her, his eyes filling with tears.

“I’m sorry, Milady. I do not know if they took him. He  _ made _ me run. I did not want to leave him, but he was afraid they would hurt me or use me against him.”

“Oh Fergus,” Claire said, cupping his face in her hands. “It isn’t your fault. You did right, coming here. He can take care of himself.”

Fumbling for the phone in her pocket, she looked up at Raymond.

“I’m so sorry,” she said to her mentor. “I have to help my husband. I can’t stay here.”

“Of course, of course, Madonna. I will go collect your things while you make arrangements.”

“Thank you.”

Claire dialed one of the two numbers programmed in the phone.

“Hello?” Murtagh said after the third ring.

“Murtagh, we have a problem.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Hanging up, Claire went to join Raymond in her room.

“Master Raymond… I…”

“Madonna, sit. Here…”

The little man pulled her gently to the bed, keeping hold of her in the event that she fainted outright.

Claire’s heart throbbed in her temples - her entire body at war with the news that Fergus brought. 

“I’m so sorry,” she said again. “I want so badly to stay and learn more from you.”

“You have learned what you could in the time you had. Most of us cannot See the future.”

Claire smiled weakly, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“It doesn’t always help my husband.”

“If you take away nothing else from your time with me, take this: you are a very gifted Healer. Trust yourself and your Gift. Do not ignore your instincts.  After all…” He took her hand, squeezing tight. “It is no small thing that you and your husband have found one another now. Take heart from that.”

Claire’s eyes finally overflowed, fear and denial flowing down her cheeks. She squeezed Master Raymond’s hand in return. 

“Jamie,” she said softly, the sound of his name making her smile a little. “His name is Jamie.”

Raymond patted her hand.

“I thank you for your trust, Madonna.”

“I don’t know how long this will take us. But… if they followed us here and they know who my husband is, they might know who you are. It might not be safe for you anymore.”

Raymond patted her shoulder gently and began packing her bag.

“Do not worry over me, Madonna. I’ll be just fine.”

“Will I ever see you again?”

He shrugged with a twinkle in his eye.

“In one life or another. Your friend will be here soon.”

***

Murtagh pressed his finger to his lips, commanding silence. Claire followed silently behind him, keeping Fergus pressed close to her. Murtagh motioned for her to stay back while he entered the cottage. Even from outside Claire could hear the beeping of the alarm.

They inched into the house, Claire’s heart in her throat. So far, nothing looked out of place. During the frantic drive, Murtagh had commanded they stay quiet and stick close to him. It was his job to protect them, he’d said.

A crash behind her had her jumping out of the way. Murtagh spun around quickly, ready for action with his dirk held high . Fergus held his hands up in surrender, mouthing a silent ‘sorry’.  The vase that had been on the shelf by the door was now shattered on the ground. Even the wildflowers Claire had picked looked sad. Murtagh grumbled in Gaelic before continuing on. 

Despite glancing in every corner and straining for any hint of a sound, Claire felt the truth grow heavier on her heart.

Jamie was gone.

***

His eyes snapped open just in time to throw up. The throbbing in his head made him long for his wife’s touch. It wasn’t the pain of his Sight, simply a side effect of whatever drug they’d given him.

_ Claire… _

Her name knifed through his heart.

Christ, where was she?! Did they…

“Ah,” said a voice he’d never heard. “So you’re finally awake.”

Jamie’s eyes wouldn’t focus on the shadowy figure. The room around him spun again and he vomited into a bucket.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure to meet formally, Mr. Fraser. I am Stephen Bonnet.”


End file.
